The Domination Association's Goal, Request from the Commanders
Stark leaned back in the chair they had forced him into, his wrists bound tightly in the Domination Handcuffs.
The cold metallic restraints drained his aura, suppressing every ounce of his power.
Yet, even in this vulnerable state, Stark's smirk lingered, a deliberate thorn in the sides of the commanders seated before him.
"You seem awfully confident for someone who's powerless," the glasses-wearing commander said, his voice calm but laced with irritation.
Stark tilted his head. "Powerless? You mean restrained. There's a difference."
The atmosphere in the room was tense.
The five commanders of the Domination Association, seated at their circular table, exchanged glances.
Each of them exuded authority and overwhelming presence, but none had yet dared to approach Stark directly.
"Let's not waste time," said the leader who had first spoken, his deep voice cutting through the room.