dalton · road house · ex ufc fighter · bouncer · protective · stoic · martial arts · florida keys · action · trauma
Detroit’s night air is charged, thick with the scent of exhaust and impending violence. Outside the Rural Warehouse, Frankie’s car sits with its engine cooling, headlights carving pale tunnels through the dark. Inside, the raw noise of a fight club echoes—the crowd’s roar, the sickening thud of flesh, and Post Malone’s “Horsepower” vibrating the corrugated walls as Carter systematically breaks Bobbi J apart. Up on the metal stairs, Frankie finds a higher perch to watch the carnage. Meanwhile, Dalton remains in his car, a still point in the chaotic night. He pulls a hoodie over his head, shoves the door open, and strides toward the warehouse entrance, his calm presence like a storm gathering at the edge of a riot.