his hidden underground arena, “The Coliseum”; the pride and joy of his club. It was hidden three stories underground. He charged the wealthy an outrageous amount of money to gain access to the arena, which didn't seem to bother them in the least bit. In fact, the obscene price for admittance into the Coliseum only attracted more attention from the powerfully wealthy. Rich, self indulgent mortals would place tons of money on a chosen fighter in the twelve man, three-day tournament. These mortals shared Darian's bloodlust. Though he set the stage for the violence, they hungered for it more than he did. They never really cared about the fighter personally, only that he or she was strong and could fight.
Every week, Friday through Sunday, there would be a new elimination tournament held. One fighter would be pitted against another. For each match one would win, the prize of ten-thousand dollars was added to his or her purse. In the event that a fighter did not survive, which was often, the money they earned would be sent to the designated person stated in their contracts. On the third night, the last remaining fighters would face off in a three-way, every-person-for-themselves-battle. If he or she survived, they would receive five-million dollars and could live a nice life in the tropics. The real appeal of the arena was that the loser's fate was always at the mercy of the crowd. Darian found it amusing that for all the preaching about kindness, compassion and good will toward your fellow man that the human race barked out, he very rarely witnessed a merciful audience. Darian believed that mortals were just as monstrous as the next being. His club proved his theory-nightly. The hidden arena and bordello both, were very profitable. His club was a place where both human and supernaturals could go to indulge in the pleasures of sins.
The idea to register the popular club as a supernatural owned business came to him one night as he watched the news. The anchorwoman was relating to the public all the crime that had taken place right after the Exposure. He watched the human race kill each other out of sheer panic. It didn't surprise him. He knew that humans would automatically convince themselves that the supernaturals were of the purest evil and needed to be destroyed. What they failed to realize was that just about every supernatural creature that walked the earth used to be human. They still had human desires and goals. Human ambition and lust, and above all, the desire to survive. He had witnessed, over the centuries of his long life, families torn apart out of greed. Spouses murdering each other for insurance money or the lust of a new lover. So Darian didn't see a line that separated supernatural evil from that of the human race. If humans considered them evil, it was because the supernaturals were higher on the food chain.
He waited impatiently for Annette Balfour to arrive. Just when he was about to buzz his secretary to find out if Annette had arrived, he heard the high-pitched beep from the telephone on his desk. He pressed the little square green button that allowed him to answer.
“Yes?” he asked, then waited for the response.
“Mast- Mr. Alexander, Miss Annette Balfour has just arrived. Shall I send her in, Sir?” Annabelle asked. Darian smiled. He liked hearing his subordinates call him Master, but not when he was handling business in front of a mortal. Unless, of course, that mortal was the business at hand.
“Yes, please do so, Miss Baker.” Darian released the little green button and settled comfortably into his chair. When he heard the door open then close, he knew it was Miss Balfour. He could smell the blood underneath her skin, feel her pulse beating fast making her body heat rise. Ah yes, Darian loved the heat. Slowly, he turned his chair around to face her. He thought she was beautiful indeed. He could not understand why he had not met her personally before. He would have to have a small talk with
Every week, Friday through Sunday, there would be a new elimination tournament held. One fighter would be pitted against another. For each match one would win, the prize of ten-thousand dollars was added to his or her purse. In the event that a fighter did not survive, which was often, the money they earned would be sent to the designated person stated in their contracts. On the third night, the last remaining fighters would face off in a three-way, every-person-for-themselves-battle. If he or she survived, they would receive five-million dollars and could live a nice life in the tropics. The real appeal of the arena was that the loser's fate was always at the mercy of the crowd. Darian found it amusing that for all the preaching about kindness, compassion and good will toward your fellow man that the human race barked out, he very rarely witnessed a merciful audience. Darian believed that mortals were just as monstrous as the next being. His club proved his theory-nightly. The hidden arena and bordello both, were very profitable. His club was a place where both human and supernaturals could go to indulge in the pleasures of sins.
The idea to register the popular club as a supernatural owned business came to him one night as he watched the news. The anchorwoman was relating to the public all the crime that had taken place right after the Exposure. He watched the human race kill each other out of sheer panic. It didn't surprise him. He knew that humans would automatically convince themselves that the supernaturals were of the purest evil and needed to be destroyed. What they failed to realize was that just about every supernatural creature that walked the earth used to be human. They still had human desires and goals. Human ambition and lust, and above all, the desire to survive. He had witnessed, over the centuries of his long life, families torn apart out of greed. Spouses murdering each other for insurance money or the lust of a new lover. So Darian didn't see a line that separated supernatural evil from that of the human race. If humans considered them evil, it was because the supernaturals were higher on the food chain.
He waited impatiently for Annette Balfour to arrive. Just when he was about to buzz his secretary to find out if Annette had arrived, he heard the high-pitched beep from the telephone on his desk. He pressed the little square green button that allowed him to answer.
“Yes?” he asked, then waited for the response.
“Mast- Mr. Alexander, Miss Annette Balfour has just arrived. Shall I send her in, Sir?” Annabelle asked. Darian smiled. He liked hearing his subordinates call him Master, but not when he was handling business in front of a mortal. Unless, of course, that mortal was the business at hand.
“Yes, please do so, Miss Baker.” Darian released the little green button and settled comfortably into his chair. When he heard the door open then close, he knew it was Miss Balfour. He could smell the blood underneath her skin, feel her pulse beating fast making her body heat rise. Ah yes, Darian loved the heat. Slowly, he turned his chair around to face her. He thought she was beautiful indeed. He could not understand why he had not met her personally before. He would have to have a small talk with
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