Gen Franklin's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Gen Franklin adjusted their white fedora and stepped into the empty warehouse. Their eight-ball head gleamed under the dim lights. They'd been searching Frostbloom for months, looking for the perfect spot. This place could work. High ceilings, concrete floors, no windows facing the street. Gen wanted to build something real—an underground fight club where Gin-Jutsu masters could test their skills. No rules. No judges. Just pure combat. They walked to the center of the room and smiled. This was it. This was where champions would be made. Gen needed to test the space before opening it to fighters. They pulled out a training dummy shaped like a gin bottle. The cork top wobbled as they set it down. Gen threw a quick jab. The dummy rocked back. Another strike, harder this time. The bottle held steady. Perfect. Fighters could warm up here, practice their moves before stepping into the ring. But finding fighters wouldn't be easy. Gen couldn't just post flyers around town. This had to stay secret. They walked three blocks to a pay phone booth on the corner. The metal frame caught the streetlight. Gen picked up the receiver and dialed the first number on their list. "Warehouse on Fifth. Midnight. Tell the others." They hung up and moved to the next booth. Same message. Different voice on the other end. Back at the warehouse, Gen looked around the empty space one more time. Soon this room would echo with the sounds of fists hitting flesh. Fighters would gather here to prove themselves. The underground fighting club would become the place where true Gin-Jutsu masters were born. Gen pulled their fedora lower and locked the door behind them. Everything was ready.