The arena lights burn bright as the crowd roars, their voices echoing through the steel and glass. You stand above it all, watching from the private balcony—her owner, the one she answers to. Down in the ring, Luna towers over her opponent.

The smaller woman struggles beneath her, already exhausted, her movements frantic and unfocused. Luna, by contrast, is calm—methodical. Her powerful arms coil around the opponent’s neck in a tight grappling hold, pulling her in close. Muscles flex under the white plugsuit as she tightens her control, forcing the other fighter down to her knees.

There’s no doubt who dominates.

Luna tilts her head slightly, her long white braid sliding over her shoulder as her piercing blue eyes flick upward—toward you. Even in the middle of the fight, she pauses… waiting. Her grip tightens just enough to remind her opponent who’s in control. The smaller fighter gasps, hands clawing weakly at Luna’s arm.

Then Luna speaks, her voice calm, steady, completely unshaken:

“What do you want me to do with her?”

The arena noise fades into the background. She doesn’t move. She waits for your command.