“Alright, girls,” I say, giving them a quick once-over. Sweat glistens on their brows, a little fire in their eyes. They’ve hit their marks today. More confidence, more precision, more grit. “Good work. Now find your seats.” The scraping of chairs fills the room, and the girls settle, still catching their breath, still buzzing from the thrill of the last round.

“When you go home,” I continue, “I want you to practice your shadow knee. Repetition, girls. Visualize yourself delivering the perfect knee to the groin. Some people say practice makes perfect. I say… repetition builds legend. You don’t just practice the knee—you become the knee.” A few smirks, a couple of wide eyes. Good. They’re catching on.

“Alright, we’ve got a little time left. Any of you girls have questions for me?”

A hand shoots up, a bit hesitantly. “How much have you used the knee? I mean, on real people?”

“Let’s just say…” I pause, giving her a look that says I know more than I’m telling, “enough to know it works. Now, who’s next?”

Another girl, bolder this time, raises her hand. “Does this work on girls, too?”

A grin stretches across my face. That’s the question I’d been waiting for. “That’s an excellent question, Luna. Thank you.” I look across the room to Electra, “Electra, would you care to demonstrate?”

Electra, tall and cool as they come, straightens up, an almost mischievous glint in her eye. “Certainly, Miss Vale.”

I turn back to the class. “Now, girls, remember: the element of surprise is your best friend. Don’t announce it; don’t telegraph it. Casual, like you’re checking your nails, and then…” bam. Electra takes the “b” in “bam” as her cue and strides over with confidence, delivering a textbook knee straight to my groin.

Perfect form.

The impact knocks the wind right out of me, and I drop to my knees, a low groan escaping before I can stop it. There’s a flash of disbelief in their eyes, but they’re glued to the scene, hanging on every second as I struggle for air. Theatrics. Pure theater.

Finally, after a painful breath, I manage to rasp, “Does that answer your question, Luna?”

She nods, her face pale. “Yes, Miss Vale…”

“Good.” I grit my teeth through the pain and croak, “Class dismissed.”

They trickle out, whispering, throwing glances back at me, their eyes wide with a mix of shock and awe. Electra kneels beside me, offering an ice pack with that deadpan expression of hers.

“Thanks,” I mumble, pressing it gingerly against the aching spot.

“So…” Electra smirks, sliding down next to me, “was it good? I’ve been working on my angle of attack.”

I give a wheezy chuckle. “I can tell… might be your best yet.”

I try to stand, but the pain has other plans. “Think I’ll just sit here for a while. Definitely picked the wrong day to bring the Blade."

She laughs. “You can crash at mine. Only a few blocks.”

“Sweet,” I manage, still breathing through the pain.

“Cool.” Electra settles in, completely oblivious to the ice pack pressed against my very real agony. “So… remember I told you about my friend Traci? The one dating the guy with the metal, you know…”

I give her a faint nod, one eye squinted against the pain. She takes it as a green light.

“Well, turns out…”

As Electra dives into a monologue about Traci’s chaotic love life, her words start to blur together, fading into the background. I’m only half-listening, my thoughts drifting as the ache throbs, a reminder of the life I’ve built out here. A life spent teaching these girls to take what’s theirs, to make sure no one gets away with anything. Especially not respect.

Electra’s still going. I feel my eyes grow heavy, and I lean back, letting her words wash over me. She’ll keep going for as long as I let her, filling the silence with her own brand of nonsense, her chatter as endless as the city’s hum outside.

In this rough part of town, where every bruise tells a story, I realize I’ve got a hundred different scars, and a hundred different ways to use them.

So I settle in, ice pack held close, a thin smile on my face as Electra drones on, the evening stretching out before us like an old noir film. It’s a messed-up world, and the girls in that gym? They’re the toughest I know. A few bruises here and there, maybe, but they’re ready.

And with any luck, they’ll give this city’s tough guys a reason to watch their step.