Chapter 3. Andy Parker lit his fist fly again, hard and fast, and a right jab, and then another.

He ducked right and brought his left up in a strong hook that jarred his foe a foot to the side.

Feeling like the fight was his, he stepped in close and put all his body weight behind a series of lightning-fast uppercuts that powered into his opponent just above waist level.

Finally his arms began to shake and he leaned forward, exhausted. After a moment he raised his head and saw the grinning

face of Mack Tully holding the heavy bag for him. You're going to get an eight-count if you

don't get out of that clench, Mack said, letting go of the bag. Parker puffed as he rose, his forehead

leaving a trail of sweat on the punching bag as he did

so.

Come on, Mac, he tried to bluster.

If this guy weren't chained to the rafters, there's no way he'd still be standing.

Mack nodded and spat.

Guess that's right, he said.

His grin's spreading still wider. Of course, he's filled with sawdust and doesn't have any legs, so I don't know

what you expect. The two men laughed and stepped away from the bag to get some water. Parker was tall and

lean, with fair hair matted down with perspiration and a jaw line that made him look almost as

determined as he usually was. He might not have been improving much as a boxer, but he had certainly

put some meat on his bones

since he had begun working out at this gym. His partner was shorter, but more barrel-chested.

Mack Tully could take a lot of lumps without falling down, and it had stood him in good stead

more places than just the boxing gym. For Parker and Tully were soldiers in a secret army of

justice. Each man was an active field agent in the service of the city's protector, the Red Panda.

Secret soldiers in his army, they filled their roles as the Red Panda saw fit. Spotters, undercover operatives or men of action, each was ready to do all he could and more to aid their remarkable chief in his quest.

...