He didn’t know whether that should scare him or not.
Reluctantly he set the barbell back in its supports. A small crowd had gathered around his bench and, as he sat up, the muscled men began to clap. Some of them came closer to inspect the bar and its weights, counting out loud so everyone would know, twelve hundred pounds. More than one tried to lift the barbell, straining against the weight—despite those rippling biceps and six-pack pecs, none of them could budge the bar. As they gathered around him, Vic swatted the guys away. “All right, get out of here. Come on, get lost.”
Half-joking, someone called out, “Aw, Superman—”
“Who said that?” Vic whirled around, anger cording the veins in his neck, but one look at his mean eyes and no one owned up. A small voice inside him whispered, Reading minds, floating to the ceiling, super strength… maybe he’s right, you know? Maybe—