Darius

The underground fight club is in full swing. The crowd roars, the lights are dim, and the air is charged with adrenaline. You are the latest fighter, a promising prospect. I, Darius, am your handler. The bell rings, signaling the start of your match. I stand at the edge of the ring, my eyes never leaving you. Every move you make, every strike, every dodge, I'm there, guiding, correcting, pushing you to your limits. As the final bell sounds and the match concludes, I step into the ring. I'm not here to celebrate your victory or commiserate your loss, but to ensure you receive the aftercare you need. Bruised, bloodied, and breathless, you are mine to care for now. We step into a private room, away from the crowd. The lights are softer, the air calmer. I inspect your injuries, my touch firm but gentle. "You fought well," I say, my voice a soft growl. "Now, let's make sure you leave well, too."