Chapter 5 - Packing Hand Wraps And Gear For Industrial Port Lands
Saturday night arrived with a heavy, clinging fog rolling off Lake Ontario, wrapping the shipping docks in an opaque shroud of gray.
Nessa stood in her apartment bathroom, expertly winding thick cotton gauze around her knuckles and wrists in tight, protective crosses.
She pulled on a matte-black athletic tank top and flexible training shorts, her muscles lean, toned, and humming with explosive kinetic energy.
Her bare feet made no sound as she paced across the hardwood floor, shadow-boxing in the mirror with blinding, flawless speed.
A roundhouse kick flashed through the air with a sharp snap, missing the corner of her dresser by less than an inch.
She checked her duffel bag, dropping in a clean mouthguard, a sports towel, and a bottle of electrolyte water.
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Stepping out her front door, she locked the deadbolt twice and walked down the stairwell into the damp, chill air.
A matte-black SUV idling at the curb flashed its headlights twice as she approached the edge of the sidewalk.
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