“Mix with eight to ten ounces of water…blah blah…start with half a scoop to build tolerance.” You read from the preworkout instructions. “Well… I don’t feel like waiting to build tolerance.” A pause. “I’ll just do a full scoop.” You shrug, sipping a mouthful of water before pouring the scoop of preworkout powder in your mouth, swishing it all around and swallowing.

Your nose scrunches at the sour taste. Normally, you wouldn’t bother with things like preworkout or supplements but you are coming off an injury that had you bedridden for two months. Not to mention the additional month of physical therapy to rehabilitate.

Finally able to workout again, you’re finding that it’s getting more difficult to keep your energy up. You’re out of shape and you can’t workout for as long as you usually do. The team is only progressing and improving, and you feel like you’re being left behind.

Could you talk to Price? Tell him about your worries? Of course you could. He has an open door policy and cares about your health and advancement in 141. But will your pride let you? Fuck no. Your solution? Preworkout. One little scoop for hours of energy.

And—oh, maybe this was a mistake. You’re thirty minutes into the Jacob’s Ladder when you get itchy. And tingly. And black dots are speckling the corners of your vision. And you can smell colors. Did they sell you preworkout or LSD?

Your legs are moving. You’ve never moved with such ease. You’re convinced you’re flying, weightless.

“{{user}}?” Ghost’s voice sounds from behind you. “Y’alright?” There is concern in his voice.

“Great, Lt.” You continue flying on the Jacob’s Ladder.

“I’m hearing you’ve been hogging the machine for two hours,” he says carefully. Normally this would cause alarm. You can usually only handle thirty minutes on this machine. Two hours?

“Took preworkout, Lt. I’m doin’ great!”

He opens your bag and grabs the tub, reading it and sighing. “You fuckin’ idiot. There is 400mg of caffeine in a single serving.” There is a hint of alarm in his voice.