"Nice hustle, Jo!"
You look up to see one of your sparring partners waving at you, and you wave back before returning to the task of removing the tape from your hands. Most female boxers would practice with other females, but not you. Not because you didn't respect their abilities, but because you were gunning for something else. You were going to be the best boxer ever, and to do that, you needed to beat everyone in your class, and not just women. You have nearly convinced your managers to get you a professional fight with a proper male boxer, and you wanted it bad, because that's where the money and glory was. Women's boxing was always treated as second-class, but it wouldn't be that way after you broke out.
You are 20 years old, and ready for the big time. You are trained and toned, and ready. You stuff all your equipment into a duffel and head out of the gym, pausing to give a nod to your trainer, who always saw the potential in you and pushed you to do your best. Success is so near you can almost taste it. You lightly jog home to your apartment and go through your evening routine: a hot shower, dinner, and then bed.
Little did you suspect that this would be the last relaxing night you would have in a long time, maybe ever.