“Duck!” I drop to the ground and barely avoid being simultaneously crushed and impaled by a large wooden ball filled with sharpened stakes. The man who warned me gives me an uneasy smile.

“Goose!” I shout back. The confused look on his face lasts less than half a second before it’s completely obliterated by a thick crossbow bolt.

I clamber to my feet, slipping on gore as the ground starts to slide out from underneath me. No, that’s not right: the entire floor is tilting. The two dozen other people I’m with quickly start to run towards a ledge high above us, made reachable by the drastic tilt of the floor.

“Get off me you dumb bitch!” A man tries to throw a stringy woman off of him, but she grips into him hard with long fingernails. He screams as they both go tumbling off the side of the large platform, his wails descending into the impenetrable darkness just out of reach.

I stumble over a body riddled with sharp needles, and barely catch myself. Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall. The world tilts off-center, and my vision swims for a brief, blurry moment. How long has it been since I’ve slept? Since I ate, or drink anything? How long has it been since I haven’t felt torn up and broken in every inch of my body?

My bruised ribs scream with each sharp inhale and expansion of my diaphragm. I meet the eye of an anthro croc huffing beside me, quickly being outpaced by the rest of us.

I leap towards the upper ledge. My body dangles in blank space for the beginning of an eternity, the wind and the screams drifting past my ears. Then I start to fall.

My fingers grip the upper ledge tightly and my shoulders abruptly take my bodyweight, nearly popping out of their sockets. I grunt as I heave myself up and roll onto the new area, gasping for breath. A bare foot collides with my side, worsening the stitch that I’m convinced is permanent, and I go sliding across the slick floor. I slam my palms down and catch myself, launching myself into a forward roll as my new assailant comes at me.

I sweep her legs out from underneath her and grab her as she’s falling, tossing her off the platform’s edge. She grabs onto my shirt, but the worn material finally rips, and she tumbles back into the void.

“Gods no!” a hoarse voice shouts. I turn just in time to see an old man fall short in his jump.

“Damn,” I mutter to myself and leap forward. I nearly roll off the edge as I reach for his bony hand. His grizzled palm slaps into mine at an awkward angle, and when I yank him up, he screams as his wrist and shoulder pop simultaneously. He dangles from his broken arm, stretching to an abnormal length, and looks up at me with tears in his eyes. They’re blue—the kind of blue that you see behind thin wisps of clouds, almost grey. Behind him, a young girl screams as she races towards the edge of the rapidly descending floor.

“Damn,” I curse again. I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment. You’ve got to do it; it’s a little girl. You have to. Don’t be a little bitch. I make eye contact with the old man, and I imagine for a brief moment what he sees:

Awful burned face, with a twisted snarl. Cords and muscles flexing in knots, sweat and blood dripping from his body. Dark eyes with no mercy, hardened like iron, and he’s letting go. He doesn’t care. Just another selfish thug, out for himself, morality be damned.

I yank my arm back and the man’s nails leave bloody furrows in my arms; he screams like the rest on his way down. I quickly turn my attention back to the young girl and snatch her out of the air when she, too, falls short. I yank her up and roll over onto my back, tossing her to safety beside me.

For a moment, my rattling pants and wheezes blend in with the rest of the group, mixing in with the crying and groaning. The little girl trembles next to me and I force myself to sit up, force myself not to look at her face. She’ll be dead soon anyway. They all will. Just try to remember all the times those little street urchins stole from you, switched valuables out of your pockets with lumps of rock and dirt. Kids are little assholes.

“Thank you,” the girl says. Her voice is surprisingly deep. In any other situation, it might actually have been soothing to hear—now it makes me want to shove screws in my ears. “My name is Kairlah.”

“Don’t care,” I reply and unsteadily stand. She follow suit, coming up to my shoulders. Her dirty blonde pixie cut bobs next to me, keeping two steps behind me. Just ignore her. Everybody knows it’s easy to ignore kids. They’re just like kittens—you can’t really understand anything from inside the bag, right?

“What do you think it is this time?” one of the guys mutters to another.

“Probably a course run again. They’ll have a needle wall up ahead,” he replies. Great, just what I wanted: an obstacle course from hell. I really should’ve done more cardio.

One of the others speaks up. “Come on everyone, let’s beat this shit. The sooner we do, the sooner we get home. Newcomers, pair with a senior. And,” the gaunt woman with the ponytail looks at all of us with recessed eyes, “if you slow anyone down, we drop you.”

A balding man sidles up next to a dirty looking anthro rat, who hisses under his breath. “T-thank you,” the balding man whispers. I sidle past them, but manage to catch the rat’s reply.

“When they have a colosseum match, I’ll peel apart your eyes and drink your blood.” Ah yes, the eyes, what a delicacy. As previously discussed, they are the body’s grapes; succulent, mildly tart, and best left fermented into jelly wine. Or so I’ve been told.

I hang back and watch the conversations bleed together with the murmured threats, temporary alliances shifting with each breath. We march as a loose collective across the flat platform, with whispers from beyond filtering through their words. There’s a small decline, and I stop. Kairy...no, Kairlah. Yeah, her. I grab her by the collar of her oversized coat, and she jerks back. At the front of the group, four walls shoot up, sealing several away. The screaming starts immediately after.

“Malekray!” a man shouts and slams his palms against the metal walls. Visceral sounds of ripping and tearing leach out between the high-pitched wailing. Low snarls echo through the metal chamber, creating a hellish symphony. My world tilts and I stumble sideways, nearly collapsing onto Kairlah. The vivid scent of gore assaults my senses, and I take a quick step back, trying to right my reeling vision. My foot nearly slips off the edge, the darkness spinning underneath me. Faint screams waft from the void below, and I clap my hands to my ears, surrounded by nightmares.

I dry-swallow past the lump in my throat and take a shaky breath, even as the screeching and pleading begins to reach its climax. The floor is receding, crawling towards the metal box.

“Move,” I whisper to myself, and my feet finally begin to listen. I start to run from the receding edge, but stop myself. If I keep running, the rest will know something is up. And my lead will be gone. I still open my mouth to warn them, even as I shoulder past them, and shut out the screams. But the words stick in my throat. I stop next to Kairlah, pale with horror. I tap her on her shoulder and she jumps. I catch a glimpse of brown eyes, but quickly look away. There’s no point in memorizing the face of a dead woman.

I silently put my finger to my lips and point towards the approaching edge of floor, retreating quicker than before. She visibly swallows and nods, following me. There’s a sickening wet crunch from the other side of the walls, and gleeful cackling. The few against the walls finally begin to back away, and that’s when I run.

My feet slap the smooth floor for only a few seconds before I leap through the air and hoist myself atop the metal wall in one movement. Kairlah is right behind me, and I’m not perched atop the wall for more than a second before she collides with me, sending us both into the center of the room.

I wrap her in my arms and hit the slippery remains of my former compatriots. I slip on loose entrails as I stand, and Kairlah's tears slip past the partially-chewed chunks of meat in her hair.

Soft clicking erupts from beside me and I turn. Something skinless jitters towards me, then back into the shadows. I quickly turn and a small creature skitters underneath me with twisted palms, its stomach arched towards the ceiling. Hair trickles past my leg and I see one of the twisted things dragging the top half of a corpse towards it. I kick when one of the creatures fazes too close to me. It lets out an earsplitting scream and I duck down. Not fast enough to avoid one of them leaping atop me.

It only lasts for a second; I’m not its prey. It uses me as a springboard to leap towards the exposed face of one of the other prisoners now managing to scale the wall. It grabs ahold, unnaturally wide maw opened in a bone-grating war cry. The prisoner falls back, screaming. The one that was eating the corpse suddenly stops and begins shaking, becoming a blurry form. And when it stops, there are two of them.

“Move Kairlah,” I whisper. I yank her to her feet and race towards the opposite walls, ignoring the shrieks and unspeakable horrors just outside my vision. I leap to the top of the opposing wall and feel the girl’s hand slip from mine. I turn back as I hoist myself up, and for the first time I see her face. Abject horror is etched into every youthful line and curve, and then it’s...gone. Not devoured, just gone. I drop to the other side of the wall and collapse when my ankle rolls, laying still on the floor in a bloody heap.

“Shit,” I mutter. “Shit shit shit.” I wrap my bloodied hands across my arms, hugging myself until I stop shaking. I can’t believe Xochi made this. I find my way to my unsteady feet and trudge down the endless corridor.

There’s a soft click under my foot and I pause, looking down. I throw myself forward as two large blades crisscross each other where I had just been standing. A large weight hurtles down towards me from the darkness above, and I roll out of the way. The floor behind me shatters like glass and I race forward. My foot begins to sink down and I jump with my other leg.

I land hard on my side, barely avoiding the spiked pitfall. I come, panting, to a heap of metal walls and platforms. I wipe my hands on what remains of my pants and begin to climb. The chill in the air presses against the uncomfortable heat radiating from my skin. Each breath of air takes its toll on my parched throat.

My arms shake as I pull myself up on a ledge, and collapse before I heave myself over. I tumble down and groan. I blink tears away, and make myself stand, repeating the same actions over and over again. Grab, lift, swing myself onto the new ledge. Repeat.

“I’m going to kill you Xochi,” I gasp out, rolling onto my back at the top.