He was simply minding his own business as he headed home from the gym, muscles aching from the sparring, getting his rhythm and passion back for the ring. It'd been too long since Darren had stepped foot into a boxing gym and the rust was still there, for sure. He was glad to see that his natural talent was also there too, and with enough ring-time, the rust would wear away. The Arrow had worked on all those parts of his game that had been dogging him, mainly when it came to the clinch, and how to move with his opponent while throwing some short but devastating body shots. His sparring buddy even doubled up at one point and had to take a breather.


“Please, just let me past. I need to get to work.”


The voice caught Ash's attention and he looked round to see one bloke trying to get by a group of other guys who were enjoying their intimidating approach. Stopping to get a better look, one of the gang eye'd him, nudging one of his mates.


“Hey, fucko, none of your business,” he shouted to the Moros. Looking away, Ash continued his walk home. He got three steps when a second voice was aimed his way.


“Yeah, dipshit, just keep walking.”


Oh, bollocks.... Ash thought as he dropped his bag to the floor and took out the thick leather gloves; the ones lined with metal. Quickly slipping them on, he turned and headed back to the group that really wanted to know better.


Maybe I should know better? Well, Existence is War, he chuckled as he headed to shake off the last of the ring rust fully understanding that this could go horribly wrong.