Someone needed to fight back. Someone had to balance the scales of justice. Her eyes were wide open. The spy proved that one person could make a difference. Maybe she couldn’t change the world but she could change the city. She had a way to strike back. The car was the missing piece. It could be the vehicle of her revenge. She began to devise a plan for her future.
Before morning she hid the mysterious vehicle in the barn.
It was the car of tomorrow forged by super science. In the back seat she found an operators manual in a pile of stolen, crumpled, papers. She discovered that the wonder car was full of gadgets and accessories. They would allow her to adopt a new role in life, one in a position of real power.
In the papers was a list of the villains. All the problems in the city could be traced back to these men. She recognized all the names. She could get close to them, but how far would she be willing to go to topple the Citadel?
There really was a war looming, but it was going to take place in Citadel City. Betty picked her side. She had her weapon. Now she needed to learn how to fight.
It was a fall afternoon. The sky was overcast and Citadel City looked pale as Betty McDougal walked through a battered part of town. She looked at the address scribbled on her notepad. It led her to an old, broken-down gym on a dead-end street. It was a private place where gladiators were born, then returned to die. It was a place where aging champions gathered to recount their adventures in the ring. In their prime, they were professional boxers. They made a lot of rich people richer battling one another for the public praise. They were titans breaking bones and spraying blood into the crowd as they screamed for more. For most, it was a long time ago, but it was all they had left. For some, recounting tales of glory kept their legends alive. Others, not wanting to let their years of experience go to waste, trained a new generation of young boxers. It was a way to stay relevant, near to the ring, and share a piece of the action.
Betty needed to know how to fight. After a little research she discovered Murdock's Gym. It wasn't difficult to appreciate the concentration of the knowledge it housed. It seemed like a sensible place to start.
When she arrived she saw that one of the large storefront windows had been broken some time ago. It was replaced with a sheet of plywood. In the other window, hand written signs littered the glass. They were clumsy approximations of real boxing posters, hung by sticky-tape. They hyped gym bouts, between unknowns. Instead of photographs of the contenders they displayed crude drawings, and hyperbolic slogans with creative spelling solutions.
She opened the door and stepped in. The smell of sweating men washed around her. The floorboards creaked under her tiny feet. The room was bigger then she expected. A regulation sized boxing ring with fatigued ropes sat in the center. It was surrounded on two sides by folding chairs and wooden benches. The area was strewn with people. Some were in conversation. Some were seated and some were napping. No one was fighting, though a few wore boxing gloves and trunks. Betty's eyes lingered on a young man hanging on the rope at ringside. He was listening to instructions from an older man and nodding sharply. His muscular chest and arms looked like they were carved from granite. She wondered what they felt like.
Her spell was broken by a gravely voice. “Whose girlfriend are you?”
A hunchbacked black man with a broom and a flattened nose appeared from the shadows.
She replied with a startled, “What?”
“Who you lookin’ for, doll?” He asked.
“Ah, no one, I’m here for myself. I'd like to learn how to box.” She said.
“Can you say that again? Sometimes I don't hear too good.” He replied.
“I want to learn how to fight? I can pay.” She patted her purse as if it were proof of payment.
He looked Betty up and down, and shook his head. “If you say so.”
The hunchback turned and scanned the room for minute. He knew everyone in the gym. He knew their stats, their histories and their temperaments. After a few minutes of silent calculations, he nodded with a solution. “Come with me.”
The men in the gym were beginning to notice Betty. She felt self-conscious and looked at the floor as she followed her guide. He led Betty over to a man who slouched in a metal chair. As they approached she heard a soft snore coming from him. The man had the biggest head and shoulders she'd ever seen. He wore a newsboy cap and plaid shirt with a big white gut bulging from it. He was unshaven and graying. His shoes were untied. The hunchback struck the man. “Hey Anvil.”
“Huh what?” The sleeping giant awoke.
“Anvil, I've got a student for you.”
The Anvil turned to the voice as Betty was presented to him.
“What, the dame?” Asked Anvil in a heavy booming voice.
“She wants to learn about boxing.” Responded the hunchback.
“Oh ok, I get it now.” A smile lit the Anvil's face.