Outside the black chamber, the viewers in the virtual reality pods writhe and squirm, grins and grimaces plastered upon their muzzles. Though they all miss what happens above them, as a pair of violet eyes watch from the ventilation system, brows furrowed at the sight.
Inside, a long howl precedes a protracted whimper as Lavender falls to the ground, sweat beading on his head, his breathing in heavy huffs. Between his legs is a sea of pain he had never experienced before, the burning reminder in his body that something is terribly wrong.
The creature that had so mutilated him hovers over him, her clawed grip slick with the oozy bloody pulp that was one of his testicles, but she doesn’t relish in the gore. Instead, she swipes down, gripping the back of his skull with the same hand that crushed his manhood and slams him to the floor.
Whisper grinds the wolf’s face against the rough ground, grating his nose against the concrete, her breath quick, her growls filling his ears, her teeth so close.
This is no longer the sound of an animal fighting for survival. It is the call of a predator toying with its prey.
Lavender’s instincts kick in, and the adrenaline pumps through his veins. Even though so much blood is lost already, he thrusts a heel back, striking her wherever she can.
Successfully, he connects between her legs, the pain searing through her. It’s nowhere near as bad, but it allows her to flinch enough for him to knock his head back against her muzzle!
Yelping, Whisper hops back, running her thumb along her teeth, feeling the crack in one of her fangs, and cursing under her breath.
Lavender’s ears twitch. For a split second, there’s some kind of recollection. There’s some knowledge that he cannot process, doesn’t want to process, but it’s not enough to stop her from rushing forward, slamming a fist straight into his stomach!
Blood and spit erupt from the male, spilling out onto the matted fur of the female. She then rushes around him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her chest against his back, and kicking his leg.
This knocks him to his knees, and she holds him, her hot and ragged breath breathing down onto him, strong arms squeezing his windpipe.
His mind goes hazy, splotches of light filling his mind, soon replaced by cubes, and behind those cubes, the floating jackal who, with a wave of his hand, cut a swathe through all of Lavender’s allies, leaving a crater just at his feet.
He should have died that day, just like the others.
Calm overwhelms the male wolf, the blood between his legs and the wounds over his body dripping and pooling. His claws, once gouging and tearing at the arm around his throat, weaken, his breath becomes rattling coughs, and he smiles even as oblivion begins to pull its curtain over him.
And he sighs, perhaps the last sigh in his life.
But that’s when he collapses on the floor, his snout smashing against the ground again.
Whisper steps back, her body trembling and aching. Was that what she thought she heard? A gasp fills the darkened room as some semblance of her sensible Mobian nature replaces the monstrous bloodlust that pumps through her veins and christens her fur.
With new breath in his lungs, Lavender leaps up and spins around, rushing forward, two claws going straight for her face!
Whisper smells his approach to grab his attack, only to have her damaged arm give out against the terrible talons that dig into her face, carving its way down from her brow down past her eye!
She elbows him in the sternum, stepping back, more drops of blood falling to the ground, and now the two begin to slip and slosh through the spilled mix of fluids that stains the floor.
Noticing this, Whisper’s feet plant in the only dry spots she can find, growling a challenge.
Lavender rushes at her again, the coordination he has lessened with every moment he has left in him. He swipes at her side, the desire to tear her apart and to spill her open, to make her die and to again be the last one to survive. That is all that matters.
And his claws connect, digging into her, into fat, through muscle, puncturing.
But Whisper holds her ground, and she grabs his wrist, and she digs her claws in, yanking.
Lavender’s foot slips, his arm follows the pull of the wolf, and he is in a free-fall for all but a few moments.
This sends with a sickening crunch as Whisper falls upon him, her maw wrapping around his throat, biting down, breaking through vertebrae, cutting off his connection to the rest of his body.
She lifts her head, tearing out what is left of the creature beneath her, letting the warm spray and splatter fall over her hot torso. When she spits out the meat, she rears back, howling, her voice echoing throughout the facility.
And Lavender lays there, not needing to close his eyes in the darkness but enjoying the comfort of doing so. While his body becomes numb and his inability to breathe wraps his whole form, he imagines that he has been wiped out for a moment, like so many others.
And he is finally free of his curse.
—
Clutch stumbles out of his device, clutching his throat, on his hands and knees, gulping, gasping for breath.
“You got really into the roleplay, haven’t you?” Rouge says, stepping out of her own pod. “It’s intense, isn’t it? And you were the one who wanted the bloodsport.”
Breezie fans herself, standing up, her legs wobbling. “There’s no way… this is a viable business model. You’d run out of people with this kind of… of animal instinct.”
“Oh,”  Rouge coos. “I don’t think I will. If you two are interested, I have one last thing to show you both.”