Molly flips her a long, thick curl of hair out over her shoulder and huffs slightly. Everyone has just walked off, there wasn't any prize ceremony or big announcer to confirm the win, she didn't even get to hear anyone's theme music. What was the point? It was all she could think as she exited the obstacle course room and walked back to the dorms to retrieve Vulcanus, her trusty hammer. She swiped her ID tag at the door to unlock it and it slid into the wall with a satisfying *WSSHT*. This whole beehive colour scheme was really cramping her style, but she had resolved to try and break it up as much as she could with posters and the like, once she found some to bring in. As she looked around, she spotted her target. Vulcanus was simply left where it was before, propped up in the corner of the room. The light seemed to skirt across its dark, metallic surface and get caught within, making it shine with a dull luminance. It was almost as tall as her, about half a foot shorter, from pommel to the stud that stood above the large head. The head of the hammer was squarish and flat on all sides, engraved with very angular lines, and almost as big as her head.

With a smirk, Molly turned to walk back out the door and curled a finger invitingly at the hammer. With a quiet rumble of bass, the hammer shot head-first to follow her out the door before it closed and slowed as she grabbed onto it by the haft, near to the head. She held it as if it were weightless, which right now, it might very well have been. She thought to remind herself to thank whoever placed her room so close to the training facilities and walked over to a heavy bag before placing her hammer at her back, locking it in to the clasps there. As she checked the tightness of her hand wraps, she spies some others in the room, but not many she recognised and definitely none that she had spoken with. With a flex of her muscles, there was another soft rumble of ambient bass, and her hair seemed to become flatter and less lively in its movement. Her respirator kicked into action with a slow hissing as it re-acclimated to the gravitational conditions Molly was projecting onto herself. She was training a bit heavier than usual, feeling a need to keep up appearances after her dismal performance on the course.

With a swift, but laboured step forward, Molly lays a right straight into the bag, twisting her hips just like Dad taught her to put something more behind it, but the bag merely takes the blow and swings slightly. "Jeez, these things don't play when they say heavy." She exclaims to... no one in particular, as she hops back with a grunt and swoops back in with a series of quick jabs. "Left-left-right-left-right-right-left-left..." She huffed to herself as she laid into the bag before switching it up with a hard left hook that lead into a back-spin kick, making the bag rock as her heel connected with a sharp slam. Breathing heavily and sweating already, Molly continued to lay in to the bag, occasionally looking to the entrance and around the room in case someone were to walk in or talk to her.