Even during mitt work, Declan's ferocity shows no sign of fading.
The moment Redmond raises the pads, Declan is on him, unleashing a sharp combination that cracks against the leather in rapid succession.
PAK! PAK!
DSH! PAK! DSH!
His punches are compact and precise.
There is no hesitation between shots, only the tight, relentless rhythm of a former world champion who has spent years refining his craft at the highest level.
"Jab, right hand!" Redmond calls. "Step back, then come straight back in!"
Declan fires the jab, drives a straight right through the opening, then shifts his weight back just as Redmond brings a pad forward to simulate a counter.
DSH! PAK!
DSH!
He slips outside it and answers with a short left hook, followed by a right to the body.
PAK!
DSH!
"Again! Don't admire your work!"
The pads snap together again as Declan repeats the sequence, his punches coming faster now, each combination flowing cleanly into the next.
