"Hi! I'm Wulf, I'm with Wealth Planning-" A voice that rises and falls, trying to avoid sounding monotonous as he reads off the script. "Are you interested in investing or insurance-"
A muffled, angry response cuts him off.
"Fuck off."
Click.
Wulf sighs and hangs up the phone, staring at the screen with a list of endless names and phone numbers.
"Damn, you suck at this."
A voice resounds from the cubicle next to him, and Wulf can only shake his head, putting on a fake, cheerful voice. "Only one out of every few hundred responds! Just gotta keep hitting the numbers!"
A faint snort, and Wulf hears nothing more from him. He'd just met this bastard, and he was already this much of a dickhead.
This monotonous life, mirroring the monotony he tries to avoid in his voice, drags on through the day. By the end, his head is rolling around like a newborn's before his training supervisor approaches his desk.
"Good job," she says, briefly peering over the divider. "You just started. Don't get discouraged too soon."
"Of course not! It's a numbers game, after all!"
She offers a faint smile and nods, though her eyes betray a quiet doubt in his optimism before turning to handle other business.
A faint smile lingers on Wulf's face, his eyes glazed over before he sighs and stands up. He keeps a smile as he begins packing his things.
"Where are you heading?" The same obnoxious man glances over as he prepares to leave for the day as well.
"Gym. Boxing and kickboxing. I've got practice."
"Oh? I didn't know you were into that."
"Yeah, it's fun. The adrenaline and thrill- it levels out this kind of life."
Wulf gestures toward the desk, and the man's lifeless eyes follow. He sees the faint flicker of understanding behind the pale, sunken expression- something he's learning this job can do to anyone.
"I don't think I could get into that. My back and knees are shot."
"Ah, sorry to hear that. Injury or just… this?"
"No, no injury. Just every time I try to work out, I feel like I've torn something."
Falling silent for a moment, Wulf finally responds, trying to be positive despite the guy's earlier attitude. Everyone has off days, or moments they don't realize they're being assholes. Especially if it feels like everything around them is falling apart or stagnant.
"Well, if you ever decide you wanna tag along and try it, they start you off slow. It's going to hurt, no matter when or who you start with. It's just part of the process."
"No, totally! I get that! I'll think about it."
Nodding, Wulf turns without another word, waving as he leaves."See ya later."
"See ya, man!"
--------------------------
Stretches, followed by brief conditioning. Wulf works up a light sweat as he takes his third lap around the gym before stopping in front of the bag.
"One, two! Slip, slip! One, two! Slip, slip!"
The instructor shouts over the deafening rap and motivational music.
"Come on, Wulf! This is still just the warm-up! Don't tell me you're out of gas already!"
Sweat burns Wulf's eyes as he laughs, "Hell no! I'm waiting for you to make it harder!"
Ah, fuck. Instant regret over that absent-minded taunt.
"Harder?! You want it-"
"No, wait, I didn't mean to-"
"Nah, naaah! All right, everyone else keep going. Josh will remind everyone of their sets. JOSH! Do what we did last Friday!"
Wulf circles around the bag, still running the combination as he glances over at the instructor approaching with a sadistic smirk. Slowing his punches and accepting his fate, he braces himself as the instructor rests a hand on the bag.
"What are you doing? Keep going!"
The training continues, now with the instructor laser-focused on him. If he'd just kept his mouth shut, it would've been a relatively easy day. But here he was, doing burpees, going non-stop, under the instructor's watchful eye.
By the time sparring comes around, Wulf is already gassed. He can barely see from the sweat stinging his eyes, and his shirt clings to him as if he'd just jumped in a pool.
He pants like a dog as he slides into the ring. His opponent, Josh, who's been coming here for years, is only mildly sweating and already recovered.
'In through the nose, out through the mouth,' Wulf recites in his mind, focusing as the two of them lock eyes.
"Remember, don't breathe through your mouth when fighting," the instructor says, rubbing his chin and exaggerating his jaw swing. "If he catches you while you're sucking air, lights out."
Wulf nods. The bell rings. Three-minute rounds. Five rounds for beginners.
They circle each other, tossing light jabs. For once, this guy isn't trying to brawl like a lunatic.
'Thank god he's going light-'
Suddenly, Josh twists sharply and springs off his back foot, closing the distance in a few quick steps. Wulf, still breathless, retreats, flinging out jabs non-stop.
'This fucker is Mike Tysoning me!' Wulf thinks, as Josh slips around his jabs with tight footwork.
A sharp, deadly hook swings out while the other hand guards his head. Wulf leans back to avoid it but loses his footing and stumbles into the ropes.
He catches a glimpse of Josh's smirk; the look of a man who knows he's cornered his prey, right before the barrage begins.
Covering up, Wulf absorbs rough blows to his forearms. He can't slip out. His arms rock side to side under the pressure. Then, just as he recognizes a combo he only vaguely remembers, an uppercut slips through his guard and nails him square in the face.
Stars. White speckles. He keeps his guard up, barely, but only because it's sparring and Josh is holding back.
Despite the pain, despite the daze, a surge of adrenaline and rage boils inside him. He's getting pummeled, his forearms and body numb, but the urge to fight ignites.
In the gap between Josh's combos, Wulf explodes outward, throwing a flurry of punches he couldn't name.
Hooks? Straights? Doesn't matter. Just swing. Break out through force.
Wulf holds back just enough, considering it's sparring, but still hits harder to make a point of his intent.
Unfortunately, Josh is far better in close quarters. He blocks it all or it glances off his guard harmlessly. But it buys Wulf a moment to breathe.
From the instructor's perspective, even if Wulf broke out, he's still panting and visibly gassed while Josh remains balanced, weight-shifting, ready.
"Keep your guard up!" the instructor yells. "It doesn't matter how tired you are! This is pitty-patty work! You'd be knocked out already if this was for real! Focus on defense! Learn how to fight when you're physically and mentally exhausted!"
The bell rings.
Pure relief floods Wulf as he slumps back toward his corner, still panting heavily.
"Need a break?"
Wulf shakes his head, leaning on the ropes. His opponent is barely winded. The instructor chuckles.
"Careful what you say next time in the middle of class. I can be your friend, or your nightmare."
Still breathless, Wulf nods again.
The bell rings. Exhausted but not quitting, he turns back for the next round.
---------------------
"Hey, nice job in the ring!" Josh said as they wrapped up. "You going out to drink tonight?"
Wulf, physically and mentally exhausted, nodded. "Hell yeah, it's Friday. Gonna check out that corner bar with a few pool tables- the one with the neon lights?"
"Oh! Yeah, I know which place you're talking about! I'll be there tonight. Let's play a few rounds."
"You play much?"
"I'm undefeated in that too," Josh replies with a smirk.
"We'll see after tonight," Wulf chuckled as they clasped hands, giving each other a pat before heading out.
"Damn, it's fucking freezing! Global warming my ass!" Josh cursed as he briskly strode toward his car.
Wulf laughed, the cold air biting at his skin and lungs. His sweat burned against the chill, even with a sweater on.
Later, after a warm shower and change of clothes, he was at the bar, playing pool and drinking a little too much as they enjoyed themselves. Between rounds and maybe one too many beers or liquor shots, they swapped stories about their shitty, frustrating jobs.
Overall? A great night. Wulf and Josh stumbled out of the bar, roaring with laughter as they leaned on each other for balance.
"–Hic– Hey, I'll see you tomorr-" Wulf began, shifting his coat just as his foot hit a patch of black ice on the asphalt.
His world spun. And then, darkness.