So, this is getting put out there to test the waters. I'll keep on writing it if there are nibbles, so...read up, tell me what you think, and whether you reckon there's potential.

Disclaimer:

Gotta have one of these, right? Basically, this is an uber Xena story. IE, Xena and Gabrielle's souls are in the people called Marlo and Alice (aka Sunny) respectively. But, even though that's the case, Marlo and Sunny aren't Xena and Gabrielle. Their lives, their personalities are my creation. I'm just borrowing the idea of karmic reincarnation from Xena. So, that side belongs to Rob Tapert, any Xena references belong to Rob Tapert, and anything that's not remotely familiar is my brain child...

Can ya tell I don't do this often?

Background:

Marlo:25 years old. 177cm, 65-70kg, professional Muay Thai Boxer.

Alice:23 years old. Computer hacker.

Obviously more information to come. For now...tell me if it seems like it's gonna make the cut... Think of this as the teaser.

Chapter 1.

Thuck, thuck, thuck, thuck, thuck, thuck, thuck, thuck, thuck, thuck, thuck, thuck, thuck, thuck… Eventually, the sound of the skipping rope hitting the soft, mat covered floor faded away into nothing. It always happened this way as she let the noise of the song take over the rhythm of the exercise. Concentrating on the song was always a distraction for Marlo Drattini. Half an hour solid of skipping with a half inch thick rope wasn't exactly anyone's favourite thing to do; hell, it was boring. The sweat puddles left by the sodium infused liquid leaving one's fingers, being flicked out at an angle with each wrist rotation was nothing short of disgusting, and before she'd started this sport, the woman hadn't even been aware that her kneecaps could even sweat. A quick flick of her head sent drops of sweat flying from her face as she glanced up at the clock on the wall. One more minute, and the thirty minutes of repetitive torture would be over. Slowly, the rotation of the rope started to increase, whistling through the air as the Muay Thai fighter lifted her knees, eyes glued onto the seconds hand of the clock in front of her. Thirty seconds. The height of her jumps increased slightly as the rope blurred in the air, the brunette performing a series of double rotations, catching her toe on the last turn.

"Mother effer!" Barely in time, the woman censored herself, grabbing at her big toe as pain ripped through it. Balancing on one foot, she examined the rapidly numbing toe, grumbling quietly as it started to go numb. "Almost managed a whole session this time…" Shaking her head, she moved over to her training bag, dumping the rope next to it as she started digging through her bag. Pulling out two long pieces of fabric, she sniffed experimentally at them, wrinkling her nose at the scent of sweat and leather. "'bout time I washed those," she muttered to herself, dropping one on the ground as she slipped her thumb through the loop at the end of the second. Three wraps around her wrist, one halfway around her thumb to change direction, another around the wrist, and then every finger was wrapped individually, leaving her palm free to breathe before the Velcro was done up. Expertly, she wrapped the other hand, flexing her fists before moving back out onto the mats. Half an hour down. One and a half to go…

Walking out of the gym and into the dry air of the city was always a shock to Marlo. Her trainer tried to maintain an atmosphere not unlike Thailand, making the gym hot and humid through the use of heaters and condensation machines. Marlo couldn't argue with the fact that it worked, the sweat that coated the clothes now hidden in the bag on her shoulder attested to that. It just made the walk home rather unfortunate as the gym didn't have showers available on the premises. A damp training bra and underwear were definitely not the way to go. "Just two more days and you get a break," the woman muttered to herself, half wringing out her ponytail. "Sauna trip tomorrow, weigh in after that, food, sleep, fight, then rest." She shook her head with half a grin. "Just…get through the food laden party until you can't stand it, and the rest will be easy."

***Three Hours Later***

Bloody hell. Why was she here again? She stifled a groan, eyeing the table laden with food, the weight of it all seeming to make the wooden structure groan at her; tease her. It was at times like this, when she hadn't eaten a proper meal all week, that she chastised herself for choosing a sport where she had to cut weight to compete. Standing at around five foot eight inches and weighing around sixty-three kilo was no mean feat for a woman of her height and build. At the moment she was all skin and muscle, and she knew it. After tomorrow night, though, she'd put herself into a food coma and everythi—She was broken out of her thoughts by the sound of her name being called. "Mar!" Shaking her head to clear it, the brunette turned on the spot. "Gen," Marlo smiled, reaching around to hug her friend. "Great party, huh?" Genevieve Matrode, her old college roommate, who's party it was, stepped back from the embrace, looking at her friend, clucking her tongue like a mother hen. "You're cutting again? Mar…why can't you just fight up a weight class? It's not like you're not strong enough to do it." Marlo opened her mouth to protest using the same reasons she always did, but was cut off before she could even form the words. "Anyway, I just wanted to introduce you to one of my newest friends. We both know how sociable you tend to be, 'specially when you're hungry so…here. Sunny, Marlo. Mar, Alice."

Marlo smiled slightly, offering her hand. "Sunny, huh? Is it the hair, or does it have something to do with your smile," she tried to joke, taking another glance at the table, which creaked invitingly at her again. "Nice to meet you." And that was it. That was her entire ability to be sociable done. Soon, her uncomfortable stance and silence would be noticed, along with the longing glances towards the food and this woman would be gone to mingle with more approachable, friendly people. It was going to be a pity, too. The girl was cute. Oh well. Quarter of an hour more, and she'd be allowed to leave, go home and sleep anyway. No point in trying to make friends. Besides, none of Gen's people were from her side of the road. Laywers and business people weren't her people. Not enough flannel shirts.