Peter stands before the mirrors. No weights. No chalk. Just him.

Peter looks at his hands. Calluses. Trembling.

Mark watches from the doorway. Nods.

MARK That's not worship, Peter. That's punishment.

He places a hand over his own heart. Then over his bicep. His chest. His quad.

PETER (V.O.) They say muscles are armor. But armor is heavy. And underneath... I'm still just flesh.

FATHER (on video) Feel that? That’s not pain. That’s purpose. Every muscle has a story. Respect the story.

He traces the lines of his own body — not sexually, but reverently. Like a monk touching a relic.

PETER (softly) Thank you.

Peter pauses. Eyes darken.

Present Peter stares. Tears cut through the sweat on his face.

Mark sighs, leans on a mop.

Peter Le – Muscle Worship – Part 3: The Offering

Distant thunder, muffled city hum.