142 Times Have Changed

Thunk.

Boom.

Whap.

The floor was soon littered with groaning bodies of individuals, some of which had been covered in protective gear and others who had not. The ones who didn't have gear on were highly trained martial artists who knew how to take a hit and a fall, but in this case they claimed they wouldn't need it. Whether they were regretting the decision now or not was something only they knew and probably wouldn't speak about even if they could.

In the center of the room dressed in a white, skin tight body suit that did little to hide her curves, a young woman was taking a look around the room at the fallen individuals while maintaining a fighting stance. After confirming that none of them were getting up any time soon, she dropped the stance and walked over to a stool in the corner where a bottle of water was waiting for her. After taking a sip, an old gentleman walked over with a towel and handed it to her before stepping back.

"Thank you. Any messages for me?"