On this particular Tuesday evening, the gym was crowded. Marcus was holding court near the
main ring, loud and boastful, wrapping his hands while a small entourage of aspiring fighters
hung onto his every word. He was telling the story of his latest knockout, embellishing the details
as usual.
The heavy metal doors of the gym groaned open, letting in a gust of cold city air. A woman
walked in, carrying a worn duffel bag. She was tall, athletic, and possessed a quiet intensity. Her
skin was a deep, flawless ebony, and her hair was braided tightly against her scalp. She didn't
look around with the wide-eyed awe typical of newcomers; instead, her gaze was focused,
assessing the space with the clinical precision of a veteran.