"Time to pack up, Ghost," Vane sneered. "The momentum is all mine."
"That’s the thing about a counterpunch," Elias’s trainer, Pops, whispered from the corner. "It’s not about being stronger. It’s about letting the other guy’s momentum do the work for you." Counterpunch
The dim lights of the "Broken Rib" gym hummed with the smell of old leather and stale sweat. Inside the ring, Elias "The Ghost" Thorne danced. He wasn’t a heavy hitter; he was a surgeon. "Time to pack up, Ghost," Vane sneered