By 8:00 AM , he was on his feet, downing a tall glass of water with lemon. The cold liquid hit his system.

"Yow... that’s like a full system reboot!"

He stretched slowly, rolling his shoulders, loosening stiff muscles. Ten minutes of simple movements: touching his toes, rolling his wrists, rotating his hips. Brought life back into his joints. He muttered under his breath as he worked through it, almost like a mantra.

"Loose wrists, strong ankles... can’t afford to slip. Not today, not tonight."

At 8:30 , breakfast was quick and clean. A strong black coffee steamed on the table, paired with a whole grain sandwich stacked with eggs and avocado. He took slow bites, scrolling through his phone at the same time. Notifications wouldn’t stop flooding in from comments, messages, to congratulations from fans. He smiled, shaking his head.

"From dropout to one million. Who would’ve thought? Not the damn president, that’s for sure."

He popped a grape into his mouth and leaned back, savoring both the food and the thought.

By 9:30 , Sid moved into his mobility session. He set a timer and flowed through wrist rolls, ankle drills, and hip openers. His voice was low, talking himself through each motion.

"Strong hips, stable core. This is the difference between climbing three floors and climbing seventy."

He pressed into a deep squat, groaning as his joints popped.

"Goddamn... okay, not broken yet. Still good."

He laughed at his own joke and shook out his arms.

When 11:00

rolled around, Sid was already at the park near his block, where the bars and benches became his training ground. He pulled himself up on the bar, counting each rep.

"One... two... three... come on, Wilder, you’re not tired yet."

His muscles burned, but that was the point. Push-ups followed, then dips, then planks that left sweat dripping down his forehead. Box jumps ended the circuit, his sneakers slamming against the wooden platform.

"This is it, every rep tonight could save me from falling."

Around him, people in the park slowed down and stopped, drawn in by the intensity of his training. Students gathered, some girls leaning against the railing, wide-eyed as they whispered to each other.

"Omg... he is so fine. Look at the way his muscles flex when he moves..."

Others came with their partners, yet even they couldn’t look away. A husband crossed his arms, trying to act casual, while his wife tugged at his sleeve, cheeks flushed as she whispered.

"His skin... that tan makes him look even more manly. No one around here compares. He doesn’t look like any of the guys from school."

Her husband gave a small nod, his own eyes glued to Sid’s build.

"Yeah... it’s like he’s from another world. He stands out too much. Well, that SIDWILDRUN— I’m a fan!"

Sid noticed the glances and cameras pointed his way. Some recorded him, others snapped pictures. He only smiled back, pushing harder, letting them watch.

By 12:30 PM , he was scarfing down lunch: grilled chicken breast, brown rice, and a mountain of greens. His fork tapped against the plate as he scrolled through comments again. One line stuck out to him:

[Comment]: "Don’t die climbing that tower. We can’t lose you now."

He froze for a second, staring at the words, then gave a small smile.

"Relax, I don’t plan on dying. Not until I piss off a god or two first."

He shoveled another bite of rice into his mouth and kept eating.

At 1:30

, Sid slipped out with his phone in his pocket, walking slow and casual. His eyes, though, were sharp, scanning every corner of the city. He passed by a tall office building, noting the security guards at the doors. One leaned against the wall, chatting with another. Sid slowed down, pretending to look at his phone, but his ears caught everything.

"Shift change’s at ten sharp."

One guard said, scratching his neck. The other groaned.

"Hate that spot on the roof patrol. No cameras, no lights. Creeps me out."

"Yeah, but it’s the easiest. No one’s getting up there anyway."

Sid smiled faintly, filing it away. He walked past, still pretending to scroll, muttering under his breath.

"No lights, no cameras... perfect."

Another corner, another building. A delivery man was trying to buzz in at a side entrance while a security guard shook his head.

"Sorry, locked until five. No exceptions."

Sid adjusted his cap, his smile widening.

"Locked until five. Good to know."

He turned down another street, eyeing the blind spots where the streetlights didn’t reach, the timing of traffic lights, even how often people passed by certain alleys. Every detail mattered. He whispered to himself as he walked, a steady rhythm of thought.

"Routes, rotations, blind spots. The city’s just another level. And tonight, I’m the one with the controller... Yeah boy."

By 3:00, Sid rolled his shoulders and dropped into the center of his small apartment. He cleared some space, moving the chair and pushing the desk closer to the wall. The floor wasn’t perfect, but he made do. For the next thirty minutes he shifted through controlled motions: cartwheels, slow handstands against the wall, and smooth vaults over the back of the chair. None of it was meant to push limits, only to loosen his body and remind his muscles of the flow.

"Not bad..."

He muttered as he balanced on one hand, his legs in the air for just a few seconds before he rolled out of it. He shook his arms and flexed his fingers.

"If I’m gonna hang on a ledge for my life tonight, better make sure these don’t give out."

By 4:00 PM , he settled back into the desk chair, a tall bottle of water at his side. He scrolled through old clips from last week’s rooftop run, trimming dead moments and adding markers where the best shots were. The raw sound of his shoes slapping concrete echoed from the speakers, mixed with his own breathing and the wind across the mic.

He chuckled as one clip showed him slipping on a rail before catching himself at the last second.

"Yeah, I’m keeping that in. Makes it real. People love seeing the near death moments."