All buildings in this city are run down, and this excuse for an establishment in Bishop territory along 2nd Street, is no different. A large metal sign adorned with barbells and the words "Jungle Gym" greet you as you walk in, the only distinguishing mark from the other derelict structures around. Thankfully for you, the inside is slightly better looking than the outside... slightly.
As you enter, your feet thud on the worn, dirtied wooden floor, stained with years of grime, sweat, blood, and mop water that only succeeded in pushing the dirt to a new spot. At most times of the day, you can hear and see various New Reno citizens working out... the metallic thud of free-weights, the soft staccato of boxers drumming away at speedbags, and the ever-present humming of run-down treadmills. The air is acrid, the smell of sweat stinging your eyes and nose.
Scattered around are the basic pieces of equipment any schmuck might need to work out. The punching bags are sagging, the padding on the weight bench is torn, but it's the best you've got. The walls are plastered with posters and flyers, anything ranging from an announcement of the 2259 Boxing Tournament Finals between Mickey 'The Mick' O'Neill and Farric The Wall to a discolored advertisement for a circus that's long been out of business. Lockers partially cover the posters in one corner of the room, a place you can stow your belongings... at your own risk, of course.
As you walk in, to your immediate left are several rows of lockers with benches in between, which serves in place of a locker room. Most don't have locks and never will, unless you bring your own... and the ones that do have locks belong to the regulars. It's here that you change into your workout clothes. Don't worry... even if anyone along the entire left wall of the place can see you, most people don't look. They're too busy with the lines of punching bags there, hanging by chains from the ceiling. The freeweights and half-broken machines cover the front right corner and most of the right side of the establishment. The back right corner is an open area with thin pads lain across the floor, along with a few bits of simple gymnastic equipment... an old medicine ball, a few sets of jumpropes. This is the 'stretching and aerobics' area, and you'll rarely see any actual guys here to stretch out, mainly because the rest of the men in the Gym start in with the ridicule.
The main attraction takes up nearly half the building, a full-sized boxing ring at the back wall. The canvas mat is the distinct mixed color of charcoal and deep red, although whether by design or through many, many years of use, even the veterans of the place couldn't tell you. Instead of cushy ropes to keep the fighters in, metal bars on steel stanchions fence the brawlers into their arena. All around the ring are single benches which look like they might once have resided in a park.
During the day, there's very little competition for space on whatever equipment you need. Fighters use the ring for shadowboxing, practice sparring, and other training techniques. The real excitement is at night, when the spectators come out and the fighters do their thing. Anyone's welcome to sign up, if they have the guts and don't mind them being spilled all over the canvas. The 'officials' will try to match fighters up against opponents of roughly equal skill, but don't start thinking it'll be an easy or fair fight; it's not uncommon for fighters to break bones and lose teeth... and those're the winners. The fights are strictly non-lethal, and each fighter's striking surfaces are padded up for most fights. No weapons, no armor, just skill and raw physical talent. The crowds thrive on it, and there's always money passing hands throughout the ring of spectators. Don't worry, the place has a few essentially-volunteer physical trainers on hand to patch you up... at least, enough so you can hobble to the hospital. It's not uncommon to see a knocked-out fighter stacked up in the corner until he regains consciousness. At least it's far more about the purity of competitive combat than about seeing blood, like at its counterpart in the basement of the Shark Club.
Come on down to practice your skills or join a tournament and become the next barefist legend. The Jungle Gym can make or break any fighting career... or any fighter.
Click here for a picture of The Jungle Gym
