Frazer was in the mood to try something new.
The boxing gym he basically lived at had great training partners and coaching - head coach Frank was the toughest and best man he'd ever met - but it was a small and hemmed in space without room for some of the strength equipment he wanted to use. Today, The bench press was his target to build the power in his upper body.
This is what had taken him to the nearest strength and conditioning gym. It wasn't far away and was a much bigger, more spacious building complete with an array of classic and state of the art equipment.
Frazer and his boxer gym mates didn't have much knowledge about this kind of gym or the abilities of its inhabitants, and the members of this bigger gym didn't know much about boxers, nor did they care. The boxers could stay in their stuffy little hovel of a gym. Except now one was coming in.
To his surprise, the typical gym bro's were in short supply and the gym was populated mainly by women this evening. He couldn't help but sneer at them, they seemed only able to do exercises that didn't make them better athletes, only visually appealing to men.
He had to ask himself, "What's it like to put so much effort into training just to be completely physically useless?"
He wasn't complaining, they were decent eye candy trying to make themselves sweeter to his gaze with every rep of whatever silly glute exercise they were doing, he simply found idea of training to be appealing to other people a sad and shallow waste of effort. He was a boxer and trained to be an efficient weapon.
One particular gym girly caught his eye, as was surely her intention, as she went through her routine in bright blue shorts that must've been painted on they were so tight. The material disappeared into the gap between her spherical, gym-built glutes.
"Well done," he thought the himself, "you're ass is big and that's all you are. Your entire value as a human."
He managed to draw his gaze away from the blue shorts clinging to their owner and sought out the bench press. There was one available, but it wasn't in front of a mirror, so he headed for the other one which was currently only occupied by some soccer mom.
"Hey lady," he said, "maybe move over to the other bench if you're not done here."
She wracked the weight and stood up to look at him, removing her ear buds as she did so. She was middle aged and all breasts and hips, plenty of fat on her, clearly here to try and trim down and not become old so quickly. Frazer, on the other hand, was six feet tall with broad shoulders and a lean, athletic physique. She'd probably be delighted he was even speaking to her. She put her ear buds in her hands.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," she said, "My name is Cassandra. how can I help you?"
"By getting out of my way and using the other bench or go on the elliptical or do some yoga or whatever it is you soccer moms do in the gym."
"No," she replied with complete calm, raising her chin in the air, "In fact, I don't think you're going to be a very good fit here. Maybe you should train somewhere else."
Frazer had been looking forward to this workout all day and to be kicked out by some bored soccer mom simply wasn't happening.
"Just get out of my way," he said and pushed her on the shoulder to knock her off balance. He didn't particularly notice that his push did not move her but her face started to give away that she was losing her composure.
"Apologise. Now."
"Apologise? You should be thanking me, I could do a lot worse," he said.
At this, she took a couple of steps backwards, just out of reach.
"Smart, back off while you still can."
"Do it," she said.
"What?"
"You said you could do worse," she said, "so do it or get out of this gym and don't come back."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"Yes you do, but you're a typical cowardly man and you wouldn't dare."
That word, cowardly, got to him.
"You're trying to get me arrested," he said.
"You're trying to get out of this confrontation because you're terrified of what a woman like me could do to you."
At this point, Frazer didn't know what to think. He was sincerely unintimidated. The idea of a woman in this gym being at all able of dealing with a trained fighter of his calibre was hilarious, but the way she was speaking to him was pushing him over the edge.
"Bitch," she said.
That was it. He lunged at her.
She had stepped just out of range, but with perfectly trained pugilistic technique, he turned his hips and stepped his front foot forwards to shoot out a sniper jab in her direction. A martial artist may tell you that technique conquers all, however with enough physical power, even an untrained combatant can perform a deadly action even when lacking technique. Has a mule learned to kick? No, but they can kick through walls through sheer force, and Cassandra had been training mule kick backs for years.
She'd also been training squats, deadlifts, cleans. She'd been optimising her mobility so her movements were smooth, fast and supple.
While Frazer may have only seen a soft, busty, middle aged woman, she was an experienced lifter with a broad, powerful build. As his perfectly honed step-in jab began to cover the distance she had wisely created, she flung her right leg at him. Her wide, round hips turned and her bulging quad extended her leg in a powerful swing. The moment her shin bone connected with the outside of Frazier's thigh, his leg went dead and his base was wiped out from under him.
