Manta Carlos Fitness Center
2:30 AM
There weren't many people here tonight. A few oddballs dedicated to their training, or the odd executive getting off work, and needing to get their workout in before bed. That was why hope preferred to come here at these times. As it stood she already had trouble sleeping because of her nightmares. But when she came here after having one, she somehow felt better. It was good to exert herself, escape from her thoughts and let out her anger in a physical way.
She sat on a bench wrapping her wrists, knuckles and ankles. She did this carefully, taking her time with each pass of the black fabric roll. This was her protection, it would save her joints from excessive strain, and save her knuckles from being torn open too badly. She needed to be careful, given that an injury would take long to heal. It was a strange concept to her, back home, she never gave much thought to her own protection, it wasn't what she was made for. Here however, she needed to think of herself.
The almost ritualistic process of applying the wraps took nearly ten minutes, but once it was done she stood up and proceeded over to the heavy bag that hung in the middle of the open section of floor. She started off slow, a few quick punches, before slipping side to side, and throwing a few more punches. She struck imaginary targets on the bag, aiming for weak points in a would be opponent, and avoiding imaginary retaliations with speed and precision that would have surprised anyone who knew her. By day she was meek, shy, and an everyday person. But here, with no one around, when she needed to let loose she showed her true self.
She was wearing a grey sports bra and matching leggings, and her white hair had been pulled back into a pony tail. While this look was not very modest, she found that its form fitting design allowed for better range of movement and was much more comfortable that loose shorts and t shirts.
She continued to fight her imaginary foe, attacking the bag more aggressively as her work out continued. Before long she was lost in her mind, slipping and sliding, evading, and striking. She wasn't even noticing as people arrived or left the facility anymore.
2:30 AM
There weren't many people here tonight. A few oddballs dedicated to their training, or the odd executive getting off work, and needing to get their workout in before bed. That was why hope preferred to come here at these times. As it stood she already had trouble sleeping because of her nightmares. But when she came here after having one, she somehow felt better. It was good to exert herself, escape from her thoughts and let out her anger in a physical way.
She sat on a bench wrapping her wrists, knuckles and ankles. She did this carefully, taking her time with each pass of the black fabric roll. This was her protection, it would save her joints from excessive strain, and save her knuckles from being torn open too badly. She needed to be careful, given that an injury would take long to heal. It was a strange concept to her, back home, she never gave much thought to her own protection, it wasn't what she was made for. Here however, she needed to think of herself.
The almost ritualistic process of applying the wraps took nearly ten minutes, but once it was done she stood up and proceeded over to the heavy bag that hung in the middle of the open section of floor. She started off slow, a few quick punches, before slipping side to side, and throwing a few more punches. She struck imaginary targets on the bag, aiming for weak points in a would be opponent, and avoiding imaginary retaliations with speed and precision that would have surprised anyone who knew her. By day she was meek, shy, and an everyday person. But here, with no one around, when she needed to let loose she showed her true self.
She was wearing a grey sports bra and matching leggings, and her white hair had been pulled back into a pony tail. While this look was not very modest, she found that its form fitting design allowed for better range of movement and was much more comfortable that loose shorts and t shirts.
She continued to fight her imaginary foe, attacking the bag more aggressively as her work out continued. Before long she was lost in her mind, slipping and sliding, evading, and striking. She wasn't even noticing as people arrived or left the facility anymore.