Leg Dayโs Got Nothing On Me
Wells didnโt come to pull punches today. Didnโt come to dance around the mat either.
He came to kick.
Shin guards tight. Gloves on. Gold spats riding high and flexed just right. Every strike echoed like a warning, clean, brutal, sharp. Not sloppy. Not showy. Just solid. Impact with purpose.
He knew they were watching. The bros. The trainers. A few new recruits leaning on the rail like they were catching their breath just from watching him move.
Roundhouse. Snap. Jab. Reset.
The way his hips rotated, the way his thighs drove up from the matโevery motion had a rhythm. Repetition with heat. Force with flow. The kind of form you donโt fake. The kind of control that gets noticed.
One of the rookies made the mistake of saying he โlooked good when he hit things.โ
Wells just smirked and fired off another kick, close enough to rattle the pads and knock the breath out of the room.
โFunny,โ he said between rounds. โMost people canโt take one from me.โ
A beat.
โThough some beg to try.โ
He didnโt say more. Just unwrapped his gloves. Sweat running down his chest. Muscles twitching under gold.
Some bros train to keep up.
Wells trains so no one can.
Ready to join the Team? All you need to do is contact our recruiters: @polo-drone-001, @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166 or @polo-drone-125โ
