The Lion sits in his 28°C den, doing pushups in a strained fashion. An acidic sweat runs down his long face, and buries itself under the corners of his tightly clad sunglasses. His rusted silver dog tags engraved with the words “KING OF THE JUNGLE,” hit the floor in increasingly slow intervals. Through the arms of the sunglasses, an automated woman speaking in mantras is played directly into his temples. “You are The Lion, king of the jungle, let out your ferocious roar. This is your jungle, take what's yours.” The Lion snarls his face. Wrinkles scrunch along his long nose as he bares his teeth. The trance takes him into another world. He sees himself parading through the lush jungle, chasing a quickening female lion. She dashes gracefully, swiftly, and avoids him elegantly. As he shakes with each rep he becomes more enraged with his lack of speed; his lack of skill. His “mate” is just out of reach, her tail almost smacking his face as they run. He chases like he's engaging in the hunt of his life. He continues to chase, and with the last push-up, he dives for the female, and he…collapses. She gets away, as if the entire time she was only running so slow to taunt him, and now she trots off with ease, fading into the distance. He pants incessantly, enraged at his failure. He lays his head down slowly and punches the floor. 

After cooling off he stands up and gets dressed again. He puts on his leather trench coat and uses a hair gel to spike his blue hair. He then sits on the corner of his desk. The Lion uses a tablet to go through his database of Mates in order to check his funds. His database keeps track of each Mate and how much money they have made in the day, week, month, and year. Ms. 2000 is the only person exempt from this list. He scrolls through the numbers of Ms.1 and up, like a carefree man nonchalantly reading the daily newspaper. One could imagine the warm cup of coffee in his right hand that he slowly sips, with the newspaper in his left. The majority of these Mates are still under his command, while many have either passed living under him, and a few have recently escaped his grasp, but only a few. He looks at his Ralomi numbers in delight for a while but he notices something unusual as he reaches the end of the list. He squints his eyes and furrows his eyebrows. 

The blue screen shows Ms.3001 at the end of the lengthy list, but only one session’s worth of Ralomi is in the account. He snarls and violently tosses the tablet on to his desk. He pops his collar and breathes heavily. He soothes his rage by rubbing the dice earring, pierced into his left ear with his thumb and index fingers. The Lion then leaves his den and heads towards the backrooms. Once there, the women around him immediately tense, like soldiers under the command of death himself. He nearly grins a smarmy smile as he sees his system obey him. He follows a long line of soon to be Mates and walks by them slowly. With his hands behind his back his sunglasses reflect their scared eyes back onto them. After reaching the front of the line he knocks on the wall rhythmically with his ring covered hand. *Knock, knocka, knock.* Ms.1010’s heart drops but she keeps a brave face, for she has been here before. He then walks inside the room and shuts the door behind him. “Give us a moment, lovelies.” The line of women look around in confusion and whisper amongst themselves. They sweat as their unease rises, as if they were students listening in on a dean punishing an unruly student.

The Lion and Ms.1010 sit in tense silence. A perverted confidence shows through The Lion's relaxed demeanor. She sits looking away from him on the floor, as he sits in her stool with his legs spread out. His shoulders are relaxed as he fiddles with his dice earring. He takes a sadistic pleasure in moments like these. To do such a thing behind closed doors, knowing he can get away with it. It fuels him, it covers up the fact that underneath the facade he's built lies a loser. “To have power over a helpless dove, locked in a cage, was an ecstasy that only the strong could know,” was a poem he had written about such occurrences. He loves how scared they always look, how they can barely make eye contact. It reminded him of The Jungle he had built after all of these years. He is king of his empire, and his throne has no competitors.

“You know,” his shrill, nasally voice calls out, “I don't take pleasure in these chats we've been having.” Her quickening pulse beats into her ears as her heart swells with a rising anger. A heavy lump forms in her throat as she realizes she cannot contain such a unique discomfort. After a few of these instances with The Lion, she has become restless and hopeless. If he was going to do what he's going to do, he may as well just do it. “I have to say, I admire your bravery these days, however, I think it's cute you're beginning to think you have some say in all this.” She closes her eyes tensely as a sweat forms under her nose and chin. “You can convince them to leave me but I'll never run out of women like them, like you; useless, disgusting. I give you all a purpose and you flock to it like moths to a flame.” He stands up and then crouches next to her. “I had a dinner planned with Ms.2000 tonight, and now you're keeping me here. I want you to imagine the look on her face as the one thing she was hoping for disappears. I fuel her, you know.” He had planned on canceling anyhow, but this fell right into his hands.

A sharp, burning fire rages from her knotted stomach and rises from it into her shoulders. Her fingers tingle, as if barbed wire was pulsating tightly around them. Her pinky is absent from all feelings except for the TV static which stems from the side of her palm. “Oh just do it already!” He recoils. Although it isn't visible to her, a nugget of panic forms in his brain. “Wow, look at you all fierce and tough.” “Just get it over with. If you're such a man then do it, roll the dice.” “Roll a six, I don't care anymore!” He chuckles and removes the earring from his ear. He rolls it around in his fingers and an idea dawns on him. He laughs heartily and shakes his head. Ms.1010 looks on in anticipation, confused. “No, I'm not going to do anything to you.” He paces around the room as he devises his cruel plan. “I think rolling the dice for you, and my system has been too lenient on you. It's juvenile to punish someone who doesn't care about being punished. A prey who doesn't fear being eaten is eaten all the same, sure, but there's no chase.” He clears his throat. “Imagine a lion, hunting. Isn't his meal that much better when he can feel the burning in his lungs from his chase? Haven't you ever had a meal after a workout, where you sweat and your muscles ache. The food taunts you as if it was a reward for your savagery.” 

Ms.1010 thinks rapidly about what he's going to do. Her brain scrambles for safety. He's never been this way. “I'll spell it out for you. I'm not stupid, I see how you've talked to Ms.2000 since the beginning. The dice now rolls for her.” “No!” Ms.1010 springs up in a hurry, grabbing his arm. “Ok, ok I won't do it anymore! I won't tell them to leave.” A rolling satisfaction tickles The Lion's brain. He puts his earring back into his ear. “You're not to talk to anyone about anything other than their role here from now on. And as for Ms.2000, if you so much as smile at her, the dice will roll. If you tell anyone of this happening, the dice rolls. You're to bow down to your king, and if I feel the tinges of mutiny again, Eleanor will be pained by your errors.” She collapses to the floor, sobbing. “I was a fool to think I could squeeze the blood out of your body, for your heart was outside of it.” He steps over her and exits the door. “Get back to work.”