[center][h1][color=f9ad81] Danny Walker[/color][/h1][/center][hr][hr]

"Come on kid, speed it up!"

The hoarse words pounded in Danny's ears as his hands flew in front of him, smacking the heavy bag in front of him in a rapid rhythm. Sweat poured down the young man's face and his breath tore through his nostrils, his whole world contained in three feet - his hands, his stance, the bag, and the old man shouting at him from behind it.

"Speed it up speed it up let's go let's go!" Coach Alex screamed, his face red. Danny increased the pace, scraping the bottom of his body for new reserves of strength, until a sharp ringing split the air after what seemed like an eternity. At the sound of the alarm Danny slumped back, arms aching, body drenched in sweat. The coach clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. "You're getting there, kid."

"Thank you, Coach," Danny answered, turning around to where he'd left his water bottle. "I learned from the best." He glanced down at his wrist before remembering that he had, rather sensibly, not worn his watch to boxing practice. "How long we been at it, Coach?"

"Don't you start ass-kissing," Coach Alex shot back and checked his phone. "Four hours. Tell you what, take ten, then we'll come back and finish up and you can get home to Mom and Dad." The fact that Danny lived with his parents was a favorite subject of mockery for the old man, but Danny knew that it was just part of his drill-sergeant style of teaching; the sixty-seven year old chainsmoker was actually a really nice guy, underneath it all.

He nodded in appreciation of the break and shuffled over to one of the folding chairs in the gym as the coach stalked off to yell at one of his other students. As soon as his butt hit the chair he became acutely aware of how exhausted he was, and before he knew it his eyes were closing.

The scent of stale booze filled his nostrils and Danny grimaced - he wasn't fond of even the best quality alcohol, and whatever this was was clearly past its prime. He opened his eyes to behold a city skyline, the sky the familiar smoggy orange of sunrise. His workout clothes were gone, replaced by a tank-top and flannel jacket of the kind that he was accustomed to wearing. At his feet there lay a pile of empty bottles and red solo cups, and more were strewn all over the fashionable decor and tasteful furniture; it seemed that this rooftop had been host to quite a wild party, and someone had clearly forgotten to clean up after themselves.

However, none of this was terribly interesting to him, not compared to the silhouette sharing the rooftop with him. It was a woman, pale and ginger, her back to him as she peered off the rooftop; she seemed important, but he knew that he had never seen her before. In a haze, Danny approached her. "Hey," he called out, "Do you know where we are?"