Solace: Why are you telling me this?

The man before her pauses, realizing she is truly offended by his mansplaining.

Trainer: Look, my bad.

Solace: Is this your passion or?

Trainer: What you mean?

Solace: This. *Solace looks around, waving her arms to the open gym around them.* Is doing this your calling in life?

Trainer: I'm not sure I follow...

Solace: I am almost positive you don't. If I'm going to be spending my hard-earned money here, let me explain something to you. One. ]* Solace's finger lifts close to his face.* Do not assume this is my first time. I have been classically trained since I was four years old, so let's get that out of your head right now. Second...*Solace lifts two fingers to his pale face.* If I wanted your stupid ass opinion, I'd ask for it. Spoiler alert... I don't want your stupid ass opinion. And Three...

Trainer: Okay, I'm sorry!-

*Her three fingers remain in front of his face.

Solace: THREE. Do NOT Ever, ever, ever interrupt me when I am speaking. I am not a bitch but I can be, so don't push me. Deal?

Trainer: Deal! *His palms out in a submissive nature.*

Solace: I'm really not a bitch, ya know...

Trainer: Yeah, no. I, uh, I believe you. *A shit-eating grin crosses his face which warrants an eye-roll.*

Solace: Anyway... Sorry, I'm just... I got a lot on my mind. First, match and all... I mean, first REAL match.

Trainer: Well, I don't want to assume anything, but judging from what vigor you brought during our session, I don't think it'll take you long to make a name for yourself.

Solace: Well, my first match is against a janitor or something... It's one of the shows that automatically assigns the talent to a card rather than opting in. I sure hope I picked the right show to be on.

Trainer: Which uh...

Solace: It's called Anarchy. Kenzi was the only name I recognized but, there's a lot of names I don't care to get familiar with.

Trainer: Like?

Solace: I don't know, man. Some of them just seem sideways or hokey. I just want to keep moving forward. I should get an agent or something.

Trainer: Hopefully they don't piss you off on the first meeting as I did with my stupid ass opinions.

*Solace smiles big, knocking her elbow playfully into her trainer's arm.*

Solace: Shut up. What's your name again?

Trainer: It's Mark and just so you know... one. *He puts his finger up in front of her face playfully.* This is my passion. My Dad owned this gym so it's part of who I am.

Solace can't help but smile at that.

Solace: I can respect that, for sure... *She waits a moment.* Is there a number two or...?

Mark: No, that was it.

Solace: Cool, man.

Mark: Wait, you said you are up against... a janitor?

Solace: Yeah, I think so... he's like... Oddjob Joe or something crazy. Real Brooklyn Brawler-esque. I get it, though. My Daddy always told me to earn and burn, sometimes you gotta prove your worth a damn before people give you any credit, So, it's whatever.

Mark: Hey, consider it a warm-up.

Solace: Yeah, for sure. After all, Daddy said it best... never underestimate, always overestimate because it's better to blow 'em' out than be the one on your ass.

Mark: You sound like your Dad means a lot to you. Where is he?

Solace: China. Back home. That's kind of what makes all of this so tough for me. I have never been without him.

Mark: Yeah, it's tough without Dad. Mine is home, but, he doesn't know who I am half the time anymore. It kind of sucks when you dedicate your life to makin' someone proud and they don't even remember ya.

Solace: Shit, I'm sorry man. That really sucks.

Mark: Yeah. Most days, I just bust my ass here, try to remember that it's not up to him and it's just the cards we got.

Solace: Yeah, those cards are shit, though.

*Mark laughs.*

Mark: Yeah, but you know what? Enough about me, you think you'll be comin' here again?

*Solace smiles.*

Solace: I don't know. Maybe. I'll be out on the road for a bit, but I got word of a tournament coming up so who knows. I'll probably be around to train for that or whatever.

Mark: Yeah, yeah, I mean... we'll be here. I'll be here.

Solace: Thanks, Max.

Mark: Uh, yeah... no problem.

*Solace waits, her head lowered at him.*

Solace: Mark. I'm fuckin' with you.

A ring from the bench beside her interrupts her chiding. She reaches for it, swiping up to reveal on her smartphone a text from Vinnie Lane. It reads: "Good morning, Solace. Just wanted to let you know that you can always go live on social media anytime you want to promo a match. Just make sure you share it right to XWF99.com. Take care."

Her eyes squint at the screen.

Mark: Problem?

Solace: No. Well, yes. This is going to be weird, but... can you hold my phone up for a second.

Mark: Uh, sure.

He reaches for it as she hands it to him.

Solace: Just hit the red button on three.

Mark: 3.

Solace: Hello XWF. Solace Tatum. Vinnie Lane just sent me a cute little message that made it clear that my attention was needed to acknowledge my upcoming match at the next Anarchy. But you know what? There's a reason I didn't think to even bring it up, let alone make a public comment about it because what in the world am I going to say about Bob the Builder is it? No, no, see... that's something one of these other ratchets would say about their opponent, You see, I study, I reflect, and I focus on every single move I make going forward. It would be a disservice to my family name to do anything half-heartedly, and although, personally, I know Joey is a lackluster competitor, I will treat him with the respect of a main eventer such as Miss Fury or Sara Lacklan. I will treat him like I will treat anyone I faced in the past and how I will face those in the future... with my full heart, my entire skill set, and the unrelenting momentum of a Tatum.