Gracie’s Gym. The words looked faded, the sign cracked and dirty. The door was propped open and he could her the slaps of fists on punching bags, the echoing grunts of people, and the background noise of music coming from a crappy speaker, high and tinny.

Connor, Gracie’s Gym

A gym that regularly hosts MMA fighters. One of the trainers, Charlie, has links to old-school fight clubs.

There area was open, with light streaming in from a propped open back door. There were 2 rings, one of which had a couple guys boxing in protective gear. A couple punching bags hung from the ceiling along one wall and were tied to the floor. On one of them a girl in a sports bra and black shorts was repeatedly kicking one of the bags with her shins, sharp grunt each time her leg connected, while a man in a tank top held it firm. Connor’s gaze continued taking in the room, seeing a couple tables and folding chairs, some old weights and benches in a corner, mirror along one wall. Posters of various fights, some old and faded, adorned the walls. A few screens scattered around the room showed some fights, though the sound was off. He saw a guy with close cropped dark hair and a pretty good build walking toward him. He had an odd look on his face with an inquisitive smile. Must not have a lot of walk-ins I guess.

Connor, Gracie’s Gym


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