I pushed open the wooden door and stepped inside. The floorboards creaked with every step I took until fingers brushed past a worn-out heavy bag. Its surface reflected my own: scarred and wounded but strong. Memories of the past were fuel to me; they didn’t scare or phase the person I was now.
“When I raise my fist, you guys shut your mouths. Is that clear?”
Not even the sound of a shotgun could compare to the punch I threw. The heavy bag caved inward, unable to resist the singular force that sent shockwaves across its exterior. Chains rattled, but the leather ripped apart, drowning out its desperation to stay attached—to remain in place.
It snapped.
It fell into a puddle of sand, where it lay in a defenceless state. The chain could do nothing alone, so it reached out, hoping for support from someone—from something.
“Talk out of line again, and I will beat your ass in front of everyone.”
I grabbed hold of the chain the way I was taught. I locked it back against the metal railing before taking a seat beside it. Short hair fell forward, and forearms rested on toned thighs hidden by baggy bottoms. A tank top wrapped around my neck, taking care to not let any cleavage be shown.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
“I’m a woman of my word.”
I put the hand wrap to the side and moved to the centre of the room. A fist pressed against the open palm, followed by a deep bow. An elbow sliced through the air before a flurry of sharp kicks took its place. I spun, carrying the force into a knee that elevated my body with it.
“You’re nothing.”
“There are some things that do more harm than good. Keep going, and you’ll lose your life one way or another.”
“This isn’t a game anymore. People die!”
Movements streamlined themselves around the small area. Close range or long range; it wasn’t important as long as the opposition fell. Forward momentum was all I knew now, but I wasn’t taught to complain. The air snapped apart from a fist recognised, an instep acknowledged, and a heel that slammed the remnants into the floorboard. Fragments rose when knuckles turned them into dust.
“Kill her! She’s a woman, for crying out loud!!”
“We have people everywhere! The government, the schools, the media, and even your favourite cafe is under our control!! This only ends one way!!”
“Who... the hell are you?”
A cold gaze peered down at the debris. I took a seat in the correct position and closed my eyes to open them in a different location. What was strength? What was power? It came from the outside, moved to the inside, and then materialised through action.
Action that produced results.
“My name is In Bong-Cha.”
Silence greeted me.
Then they bowed.
[The Mission Log has been updated.]