I steady the sand bag before landing a right hook to the head of my imaginary enemy. I then practice doing an upper cut straight to the chin then dodging an imaginary left hook just like Canelo Alvarez did once which resulted in a KO. I continue and try imitating Oscar De La Hoya, Mikey Garcia, Golovkin, Myke Tyson, and even some of Maywethers footwork although I don’t like his boxing style. I do some punch and kick combinations then begin doing my push ups, squats, and sit ups.
Ever since that guy saved me two years ago I’ve been training. I finally realized I could do something with this body of mine. I could change it to at least be a little close to superhuman. Maybe I could even help people just like that guy.
That’s why I plan on being a bodyguard since college is not for me. All this free time to train is one of the best things to ever happen to me.
I end my work out in the gym by using some equipment that isolates my quads, back muscles, and abs then start heading off to do my run. It’s the most boring part of my entire workout but at least I’ve reached my goal of jogging 10km.
As I’m passing through the weight training area I see a guy lifting a shit ton of weights, at least one hundred on each side. He puts the bar back on the hooks and gets up just as I’m passing through. We bump into each other slightly and I notice that he didn’t even break a sweat.
“Sorry” I say, scooting away from the tight space between the equipment.
“Oh you’re the girl” he says. I give him a confused look.
“The girl that’s always punching the sand bag, your form is incredible”
“I’m not that good, and speak for yourself. That’s a lot of weight you’re lifting, although you don’t look as muscular as someone who could lift that much” I say pointing at the weights, he looks over at them then at his own arms.
“Okay, fair point but you also don’t look old enough to be here. How old are you anyway? 15?”
I cross my arms “No, I’m 18. And you are?”
“I’m 21. I’ve noticed you for a while now, you would be a really great fighter. Have you ever considered joining Special Forces?”
“Well that’s a random thing to say” I laugh “I’m obviously not nearly good enough to fight with super humans, plus that requires an invitation”
“Well it’s your lucky day, I work in SF and I think we could use a girl like you”
Excitement rushes through me like water “You work in SF?! Alongside super humans?” He nods with a smirk on his face.
I put a dam of skepticism up on my excitement. “Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m stupid. How the hell would someone like you get invited anyway?”
His smile widens as he puts a hand on his hip and leans on one of the nearby equipment “Someone like me?” He says with a laugh “let’s just say I’m more than what meets the eyes” I raise an eyebrow at him “just consider the proposition of joining my team, it’s a once in a life time opportunity.”
“I’ll consider it when I have an invitation in my mail box.”
He nods “piece of cake then, I’ll send one to where you live” he says then walks back to his weights.
I begin to leave the gym a bit creeped out. I don’t care if he’s handsome and fit, doesn’t he realize how creepy it is to say that? I comfort myself on the idea that he doesn’t actually know where I live.
The next day I don’t see the guy at my gym. I realize that I didn’t even get his name. A week passes with no sight of him.
Thinking about the conversation in hindsight made me wonder. Maybe he got up from the bench just in time to bump into me. It was also strange that when he did bump into me he was completely void of any sweat. That’s impossible for even the best body builders lifting that much weight. He also seemed to lack muscle for it too, he was too small. The more I thought about it the more I realized that every time I saw him in the gym he was doing something outrageously difficult while making it look easy.
What if he wasn’t lying about being in Special Forces?