Her name was Elena. Unbeknownst to the patrons of the Iron Den, Elena was a former Olympic
medalist and a highly trained mixed martial artist who had recently relocated to the city. She had
come to the gym simply to hit the bags, seeking solace in the familiar routine of training.
She paid the day fee to old man Jenkins at the front desk, found an empty heavy bag in the
corner, and began to wrap her hands. Her movements were deliberate, practiced, and efficient.
It didn't take long for Marcus to notice her. To him, the gym was his kingdom, and he felt entitled
to comment on anyone who entered it. He nudged one of his cronies and pointed toward the
corner where Elena was warming up.
"Look at this," Marcus sneered, his voice carrying over the din of the gym. "Looks like someone