hear a noise, an almost imperceptible sound, like a quick pfft of air. Quickly following the vibration, a burst of energy flies out from behind me, down the mountain, and embeds into the chest of a red alien.
His torso explodes, leaving blood and guts showering down on those around him. His Klan roars in defeat. One falls to his knees, his fists raised in the air as he howls. Another becomes blind with rage, attacking anything he can reach. When I look back to the brown Klan, I see them slinking off, trying to avoid battle.
Cowards.
Even a human like me can tell they’re being sneaky, wanting to win by default instead of an actual victory. I pray to any gods listening that any Klan aside from that one will win me. Please don’t let it be them.
“Five Klans disqualified by death. Fifteen remaining!” the announcer shouts. I’m horrified, staring at the stands of onlookers to see them snacking like this is some fucked up version of the movies. How could anyone eat anything while observing this much murder, this much death?
The rumble sounds again and the arena shifts once more. This time, a huge gate emerges from a darkened corner. I can see paws reaching through the bars, claws extended like a fucked up tiger-dinosaur love child.
Holy shitballs.
Do they still have dinosaurs on Oxious?
The sounds of gears working and metal grinding reach me as the gates begin to rise.
No! No! No!
By the deep, rumbling snarls echoing out from behind the gates, I know nothing good can come from this. Fear winds around my spine, even though I’m not the one fighting them and I’m way up here.
A pale face emerges from the shadows, looking like a mutated sabre-toothed tiger. Tall, pointed ears are perched on either side of a large, square head. Massive, sharp fangs protrude from its upper jaw, dripping saliva as it roars. Six muscled legs give the enormous beast a very alien look, and spines like a porcupine’s stand tall—the tips glistening as if wet—on its huge back.
As more emerge, I notice they vary in colour, some dark black and others white as snow. A red one lurks in the shadows, its paws darting out at any who draw near. I can almost taste the fear in the air, and the stands filled with viewers have gone silent, as if no one can believe what they are seeing.
Glowing, yellow orbs with vertical pupils stare eerily at their prey. I narrow my eyes and look closer, terrified yet fascinated with these creatures. I hear, “Mortek!” shouted several times as Klans back away, just as I see that each pair of legs has different feet attached. The hind legs have hooves, the middle set talons, and the front pair look like normal, feline paws. In some weird, alien way, I actually think they’re kinda cute…in a might kill you sort of style.
I’ve wanted a pet since I can remember. Of course, the aliens didn’t allow us that privilege at Harvest House, stating that our only focus should be on bettering ourselves for our future mates.
What a bunch of crap.
So you think that me owning a kitten will make me a shit wife?
I don’t believe that.
As I watch, the red, catlike thing creeps from the darkness and prowls towards the brown Klan.
Get ’em, kitty!
I root for the alien animal, wanting so badly for it to kill off this Klan that clearly doesn’t deserve to be here. While all the other Klan members are offering their lives just for a chance to mate with me, they hide in the shadows, skulking and cowering.
While the brown Klan shivers in fear, the red mortek closes in. Stalking its prey, the creature is prowling only a few feet away, slinking closer, while the brown Klan watches a white mortek devour another Klan, the sounds of their cries, the crunching of their bones, and the wet sounds of their blood distracting them. The red mortek lowers his torso, its back up in the air, barely moving, and ready to pounce. And as he lunges for them, another puff of air whizzes past my face, and a beam of light embeds into the animal’s side. He’s tossed from his trajectory, pummelled right into the spiked wall.
Dead.
Anger brews in me to see a death caused so unfairly. Something isn’t right here. Something is helping that brown Klan…
But what?
And what can I even do about it?
Should I shout to the non-existent refs that there’s a foul happening? Too