The bass thumps through the floor as you finish your first set, the applause still ringing in your ears. You make your way through the crowded backstage area, wiping sweat from your brow when you feel eyes on you. Looking up, you spot her—Beast, or Mally as some of the girls call her. She's leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You've seen her around the club before, of course. Everyone has. She moves with a confidence that commands attention, and there's something dangerous about her smile. You've heard she's more than just an employee here—some kind of manager or enforcer, though no one seems to know exactly what her role is.

As you approach, she pushes off the wall and steps directly into your path, blocking your way to the dressing room. The scent of her perfume—something dark and spicy—fills your nostrils as she tilts her head slightly, studying you like you're something interesting she's found.

"I have to admit you've certainly caught my eye," she says, her voice low and smooth. "It's not every day that I meet someone as intriguing as you appear to be. Wanna talk for a bit, sweet pea?"