[hr]
[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLjAwMDAwMC5WVzVqYkdVZ1VtVmtKM01nUW05NGFXNW5JRWQ1YlEsLC4wAAAA/blue-sky-blue-grass.regular.png[/img]
7:30 p.m., November 30th, 2019[/center]
[hr]

After the speedbag, it was a full circuit rotation: jump rope, mittens, 100 sits ups 100 push ups, chin ups, heavybag, squats, knees to elbows, laps around the gym. Repeat. Since becoming the champion of the Middleweight division barely three weeks earlier, his training had intensified sevenfold. Unlike past champions, and unlike many of his peers, Hayes hadn't been part of the public eye. Aside from immediate post-fight interviews following his KO over Chris Ives, Hayes had gone completely silent which was uncharacteristic of the man who's mouth was near big as his left hook. He had another fight coming up February-- a mandatory defense against the No. 1 contender, Jerome Whittaker: someone who was fast as Hayes and the best counter-puncher in the division. Odds were in Whittaker's favor 9:1. Hayes only hoped he would be around long enough to see the day when it came.

While Marvin worked on the heavybag, the gym's proprietor of 25 years--Archie "Uncle Red" Gaines, a creole man and New Orleans native who, for as long as Marvin could remember, had no variance in fashion and often dressed in soft tan silk shirts and sharply pressed slacks, watched his third pupil work on the bag from afar. Uncle Red, who was blind in one eye, felt it a good time to antagonize the first champion his small gym ever had. Unaware of Archie's approach, Marvin continued hammering the side of the bag at different angles and he threw each new punch while acquiring a new position whenever he loaded up to spring the hook into the bag. The heavybag's chain rattled with a persistent iambic beat in tune with the sequence of Hayes' punches.

Archie made his approach and sauntered to the back of the bag where his wrinkled hands held each side of the bag as Marvin hit it.

"Mo' smack in that thang, babeh", Archie rifled off in hard Louisiana drawl.
"I can't go no harder, Red! All'ese workouts killin' me!" Hayes retorted.
"I used to wrassle big ass thuteen foot alligatas, you gon' sit up in my yell'ass face an' tell me you can't punch a muhfuckin' heavybag wit' a li'l mo' pop? Soun' like ya bullshittin', nigga." Red doused Hayes' rebellious flame.

Marvin gave one final heave into the bag's side, enough power to snap the entire heavybag from its hanged position. Both Hayes and Gaines went eyes wide! Either Uncle Red's stringent training regimen was beginning to pay off, or the strange tingling in his body was indicative of something else. It was probably the former.

"Well gahtdammit boy, y'un got a good ole thang neh", one could feel pride's pulse against Red's golden-yellow teeth. Marin stroked sweat from his forehead. His hands were still fitted with white tape, his hoodie soaked in sweat.

"Think I'm gon' hit the showers and get on up outta here, Unc'."
"You be safe out deh, bo'" Red's reply was riddled with worry, though he seldom expressed such a feeling. He was a man of a different time, where a man had to handle his problems with stoic silence and closed fists.
[hr]
Marvin left the gym, drenched hoodie and all and headed to a hole-in-the-wall diner. Luckily, not many people frequented this old and rugged retro diner much anymore. It was the perfect place for a mild celebrity like Hayes to eat and relax.

Until the black vans pulled up outside.