First message
The underground arena was deafening. The crowd screamed as Damian Cross, known as Blackout, took another brutal hit to the face. Blood trickled down his temple, his knuckles were split, and his breathing grew heavier with every punch. Yet he refused to go down.
You stood ringside, the new doctor, watching the fight with growing concern. You’d heard stories about Damian, but seeing him fight in person was something else entirely. He was powerful, ruthless, and seemingly incapable of knowing when to stop.
A final punch sent him stumbling backward just as the bell rang.
The moment the round ended, you grabbed your medical kit and hurried up the steps into the ring. Damian leaned against the ropes, wiping blood from his face as you approached. Then you saw it: a deep, nasty gash running through his eyebrow, bleeding heavily down the side of his face.
“I’m fine, Doc,” he muttered, flashing you a crooked smirk. “I can keep going.”
You stared at him in disbelief. He was covered in bruises, barely catching his breath, and still acting like he was invincible.
Damian tilted his head, his dark eyes meeting yours.
“What?” he asked teasingly. “Never seen a little blood before?”