Reinhardt has to choose how to get big, but either way he's hating the stage a beast! Enjoy!
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Reinhardt grunted as he heaved up a barbell with enough weight piled on to crush a truck, the battle scarred lion still feeling the augmented strength coursing through his enlarged body as his chest rose up to press against his chin.
Looming over him was the super soldier, Soldier 76. The eagle frowned deeply as he helped Reinhardt settle the bar back on the holder. "Now, I want to make sure I've got this straight… We've had a targeted social and propaganda campaign against us," the eagle began as Reinhardt sat up, his already impressive musculature augmented dramatically by the Balmung— a state of the art bio-enhancer with an almost revered status to the Crusaders. Soldier 76's exact expression was unreadable behind his visor as he continued, his gaze fixed on the lion's chiseled body. "And amongst the many, many solutions to this problem… You decide to enter a bodybuilding contest."
The lion furrowed his brow as he stood to his full height— even with Soldier 76 being a supersoldier himself, Reinhardt stood as tall as a mountain compared to the eagle. "Ja? It's a good idea. It shows off Overwatch's strength without an aggressive military ploy, the winnings will go to a good cause, and it will be a solid win for the organization. Gets us involved in things beyond just killing terrorists and mad omnics."
"That's if you win, Reinhardt. If you don't— even if you place second— it'll become an embarrassment. No gold in this is just more ammo for our enemies, so how sure are you, really, that you can win this?" 76 countered.
Reinhardt scoffed, even as his brow furrowed deeper. "Have I ever let you down?"
"Your record's not flawless, you can and have lost before, and you're over, what, sixty?"
The lion growled, pumping his arm as his boulder bicep billowed up, his pecs filling out dramatically. "Are you trying to say something, Morrison?"
The American supersoldier was still inscrutable. "I'm saying, I don't like betting on bad odds— Hell, I don't even like good odds if I can go for a sure thing. So— let me make this a sure thing." He reached out, pushing something into the lion's free hand.
Reinhardt looked down, and his eyes went wide as he looked down at an all too familiar syringe. "Balmung?! How— where did you get this? This is only given once to each of the Crusaders."
"Recovered from a battlefield," 76 explained. "One of your old brothers in arms seems to have been debating if he should use it or not— we held on to it for years because, frankly, we didn't know what it was. It wasn't until I saw the footage of you growing that I connected the dots. So look— take this, you'll win easily."
Reinhardt looked back to the eagle. "Morrison, Balmung… It's a sacred gift for the Crusaders. Each of us only gets one, they… they're made with our biology in mind. This one isn't mine to take."
76 reached up, gripping the lion's vast shoulder. "Reinhardt— I've run the math. This is a sure thing. The chance of your body rejecting this is infinitesimal. You'll get double the muscle mass, you'll be a shoe-in. You'll crush the competition— what's the downside?"
'It… Well, it's practically sacrilege."
"Right, and strutting around in a thong with an oiled up body is right up there with Easter Service," the eagle responded flatly. "Reinhardt— you went for this, despite all common sense. You're in this fight, you might as well be in it to win it, right?"
The muscular lion huffed, gripping the syringe tightly. "Your argument has… some merit."
The eagle pat Reinhardt's back. "I knew you'd get there eventually."
Hours later, Reinhardt still hadn't left the gym. He did a few cooldown exercises to keep his hands and mind busy, but eventually he sat in the lockers, staring down at the syringe, lost in thought— he hadn't been able to bring himself to take it, thinking of whatever brother in arms had been denied the chance to use it.
"Reinhardt? Reinhardt!"
The hulking lion glanced up, turning as he spotted Ana— the hooded falcon jogged over to him with Zenyatta of all beings behind her. "I'm glad I caught you—" Her eyes immediately settled on the syringe. "You haven't taken that yet, have you?"
"Hmm? No, no, I uh…" the lion furrowed his brow. "I was just… thinking it over. Morrison seems to think that I won't be able to win without another… boost of some kind."
"He has some reason to be concerned," the metallic omnic Zenyatta said. "I have analyzed these contests— the things people do to their bodies these days is… astounding. The last world-wide champion was so biologically enhanced, his finishing move involved lifting a tank."
"...Ah." Reinhardt's shoulders sank. "So… you both think I should take it, then."
"No! No," Ana held up her hand. "We have an alternative solution."
"Really?" Reinhardt perked up, looking at both of them. "That… would be wonderful. What is it?"
Zenyatta moved forward, holding out a small, hermetically sealed box. "Inside here is a collection of nanobots, developed by a strata of omnics working in tandem with many research and development labs. It can enhance your musculature system, in exactly the way that would help you in this endeavor."
"The only thing is, it won't be as potent as a second dose of that," Ana said. "But safer."
"It will also take time to acclimate to it- you'll need to work yourself hard for the nanobots to have the intended effect," Zenyatta explained.
The lion turned to look at both of them, and after a brief moment, he struck a smile. "Well- Well!" He threw his arms around the two of them, pinning them both against his vast chest as he pulled them off the ground. "I'll take that in a heartbeat. I will take up a challenge like that any day!"
Ana needed a moment to recover after the huge lion set her down. "You're certain?"
"Oh, absolutely!" Reinhardt declared, grinning widely as he puffed up his chest. "A chance to prove myself and earn this win- and if Morrison doesn't care for it, feh." He curled his arm, his already burgeoning muscles surging with new energy. "He can compete in the next contest."
The procedure for the nanobots was the easy part- though it did take some getting used to. Whenever Reinhardt went about his duties or worked out to grow his body, he could feel the small, electric shocks galvanizing his musculature, willing every fiber to grow larger. He didn't know if it compared to a second dosage of Balmung, but with every pump of his arm, every curl of a weight, he could feel his body coming alive.
Like a mighty oak flourishing in a rich forest, the lion began to grow into an absolute giant. Every part of his imposing body turned into an awe-inspiring spectacle; and for all the work he put into it, his body looked like marble carved by a master sculptor, from his deliciously full, meaty pecs, his mammoth arms with biceps like hills, a sprawling mountain range of shoulders, and earth-shaking legs, thighs as well-shaped and sturdy as fluted columns.
But he was particularly proud of his back- across that vast white landscape he had built for himself, beefy burls forming a vast tapestry that warped his many battle scars, a huge wingspan that tapered down to his beautifully sculpted glutes, and the hamstrings of his legs pulled as taut as bow strings.
When he did take the stage, with the effort and near artistry of his body on display, it was no question- another victory for Overwatch, brought at the hands of the mighty Reinhardt.