Originally Submitted to FurAffinity.net on June 1st, 2009 11:46 PM. Before it was transferred to Inkbunny it had 69 views and
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Out in the middle of the dusty Outback, a beat-up WWII Jeep rushes through at full speed; a male Thylacine wearing red pants, kerchief, and headband-as well as a pair of fingerless brown gloves-helms it, turning in an attempt to dodge shots coming from a pursuing truck. He picked his head back up, turning around and taking a few shots at the enemies with his pistol, missing due to rough terrain. That was returned with another volley of automatic fire that blew out his windshield, driver's-side taillight, and, subsequently, his rear-driver's side tire. "DAMNIT!" he gripped the wheel, trying to keep control but couldn't get a hold of it. The old Jeep finally met its end in a formation of large rocks just to the right of the trail.
"Gotcha!" The truck slowed and stopped, the driver-a Frill Lizard with a machine gun- and the passenger-a Dingo with a shotgun-climbed out, approaching the crash site with wide grins.
"Well, well, Ben: seems like someone finally got ya."
"I doubt that."
The Thylacine jumped from behind the two, stabbing the Frill Lizard in the back of the neck with a weapon that was a cross between a dagger and a boomerang. The Dingo raised his shotgun and cocked it, but Ben kicked it to the sky, the shot missing by a mile while Ben whipped out another of the deadly daggers and slashed the Dingo's neck, incapacitating him immediately.
"Bounty hunters...god I hate the scum..."
"UNH!"
A girl looking to be about 15 or 16 groaned as she was forced back into her cell.
"You better put on a better show next time, mutt!"
The dingo-like girl sat up on her bed and tucked her knees to her chest, crying as the cell keeper-a Tasmanian Devil-slammed the door shut and locked it, striding off. The girl had just made it out of another match; she had been "recruited" into this illegal fighting tournament, her owners expecting a good show from this little rarity. Though they told the crowds she was the child of a mutt and a tiger, she was-in reality-a Thylacine. Bought, sold, and bargained for years, she finally ended up here a year or so ago. Since then, it's been a constant struggle to survive against the various thugs and punks she was forced to fight. For what? For a crowd of more low-lives, and for her owners to get rich. All she ever got out of it was a scrappy meal every so often, the clothing she wore-a simple red cloth around her waist with a belt holding it on to cover her nether-regions, a long, white strip of cloth wrapped around her top for obvious reasons, and a pair of brown boots-a crappy-ass bed to sleep on in the dark, dank cell, and the daily beatings she took in the fights. She shook her head, and hopped off the bed. The girl-Coorinna-walked to the far side of the cell, climbing up to look out of a barred window. She looked out at the sunset, and then turned her gaze upwards to watch the stars appear one-by-one. This was usually the high point of her day, the one time she could have peace and relax. She looked up at those stars almost every night, hoping that she could be free like them one day. She wanted to be able to lie down in the grass under those stars, to have no worries. She wanted freedom; she wanted peace; she wanted love.
Ben grabbed his stomach, groaning as it gurgled and grumbled. "Damn...I knew I should have gotten some meat off of those two..." He looked around as he drove, spotting a small town in the distance. "...Well...I guess it's time to go shopping." before long he found himself with his back against the wall of a small house. He peered around the corner, then through a window. No car and no one home. He threw the window open and hopped in, poking around the kitchen as he picked out various items: bread, eggs, milk, water, and meat, anything he could carry out. He didn't like having to raid people's homes; but, if caught on camera, the Hensons would have a trail on him. "Hey at least it ain't money or jewels or anything." That's what he usually told himself. The Thylacine hopped out of the window he came in through, but found himself looking right down the barrel of a shotgun. The owner of the house cocked the gun, preparing to blow the intruder's brains out. Ben wasn't going to let that happen; a duck followed by a swift upwards kick took care of the gun, a spin-kick taking care of the koala. Without saying a word, he leapt back into the truck, instantly starting it up and taking off once more.
"Tonight, we'll be experiencing lows in the lower-forties with a 70% chance of showers and thunderstorms in the local area. Making sure you tuck in tonight, this is Jack Kerry, and you're listening to-"
Ben groaned at the forecast as he shut off the radio. The truck was on the tough side, but he didn't think the busted-out windows would be much help against said weather. He looked on at the growing, rumbling clouds, and then to a city that was a little further to his right. He moaned in complaint: "People." That's the number one thing he hated dealing with; but dealing with a few morons was a lot better than freezing his ass to death...so he chose the lesser of two evils. Within the hour he was in the slums, the only place where he could hide out. This was NOT a place he wanted to be, but necessity had its ways of making you do things. However, a new problem arose: if he was going to get a place where he wasn't going to get raped and/or killed, he'd need money. He stopped the truck in front of a bar, reading the sign: "Fighters wanted! $100 per fight, up to $10,000 in the tournament!" What a coincidence...Ben shook his head to clear his thoughts, stretched a bit, then left the truck.
"Say, he looks kinda like that girl, huh?"
Ben shot a glare in the direction of the comment, and then turned his attention to the barkeeper. "About that sign in front..."
"...Right this way, sir." The barkeeper led Ben to a door, which he went through. He heard a few chuckles, and tried to look over his shoulder. The door was slammed shut, and he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head. He tried to stay up but fell out cold...
The room was loud with cheering, booing, and profanities as the last contender fell face-first to the mat, jaw broken and bleeding from Coorinna's spin-kick.
"And the winner is: COOOOOOORINNNNA!"
She looked about, beaten nearly half to death, as people cheered and cussed as they, respectively, won and lost bets. Guys were with their girls, said girls cheering their lungs out during the fights, the whole nine yards. And for what? To see her get pushed to the brink of death almost every night? Just for their entertainment? The stupidity and disgusting nature of it all almost overrode the pain that caused her to limp on her return to her cell. Holding her upper right arm, she shut her eyes tight and ignored the comments of a manager, nearly back to her hellhole of a home. No one really had a "room" in here-except for the few pig heads upstairs that ran this little "business." The rest of them-including the best fighters-had to live down here in dank, dark stone cells with a bed, a barred wall with the door, and-MAYBE-a dresser for their few belongings. Also, in rare cases as hers, they may be lucky enough to have a window that gave them a small glimpse of the outside world.
"LET ME GO, ASS-FUCKERS!"
Her small ears perked up, and-still holding her upper right arm-looked down the hallway to her right to see a couple of guards wrestling a smaller male into a cell near hers. He looked almost...familiar. In fact, upon a better observation, she realized that he looked a lot like her. Perhaps he was a half-breed as well? This train of though came to a screeching halt as another guard firmly gripped her shoulder from behind.
"GET BACK TO YOUR CELL!"
He grinned as he noticed it was Coorinna-a female.
"Or should I walk you?"
Her eyes widened when she realized what he meant, and then attempted to struggle free of his grasp. "No! NO! Let me go!"
The guard merely laughed, easily overpowering her in the way he held her.
"Let her go, bitch!"
The guard and Coorinna looked to their left, both right in front of the foul-mouthed male from earlier. Coorinna took a good look at him now that she was close: Beige-almost tan-fur, dark stripes that ran from the bottom of his shoulder blades down his thighs and tail, semi-long hair, and a vaguely canine appearance; she kinda liked what she saw.
"And why should I?!"
"Because I said so."
"HA! Does your scrawny ass REALLY think you have ANY authority over me?"
Ben crossed his arms.
"I will after I cave in your skull."
"Is that a challenge?!"
Ben smirked now.
"Are you retarded, or just illiterate?"
The guard growled and shoved Coorinna forward.
"You haven't been here even FIVE minutes, and already you think you own the place!"
"Maybe I do."
"GAH! That's it, punk! You and me! In the ring! Tomorrow!"
Ben merely chuckled.
"Be sure to put on your best dress."
Coorinna took one last look at Ben before she ran back to her cell, chuckling a little at his come-backs.
"Who the hell are you?" She asked herself, disappearing around the corner.
The seats began to fill rather quickly that night; people liked it when the "competitors" challenged the guards. The crowds probably love it because they know the challenger always loses. And when you lose here, you never get another chance.
"Are ya ready, ya striped mutt?"
"As I'll ever be, bunghole."
"Humph. Cocky till the end."
Ben simply smirked as he stepped into the bright lights of the ring, grabbing one of the ropes and swinging himself up over it, landing on his feet. He immediately began stretching, not paying any attention to his opponent's blabbing and insults. Ben wasn't scared; hell, he didn't even really care. He just wanted to make quick work of this asshole.
"Are you ready bi
Details
Published:
13 years, 5 months ago
06 Dec 2010 03:38 CET
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