A domestic cat hid in the shadow of a dumpster, thanking any god that was listening for the ability to see in the dark. His pursuers ran past him, not giving that area a second glance. Now was his chance. He turned heel and ran quietly down the alley, looking over his shoulder to make sure nobody was behind him.

Big mistake.

He tripped over a trashcan, and not even his ‘cat-like’ reflexes could hold his ass from falling to the ground. The gang of three ran back to the alley to find their prey, an orange jump suited convict. Many would say he deserved to die. He would beg to differ.

He stood to his feet and ran in the opposite direction, his pursuers chasing him with a variety of weapons made to crush, cut, and maim their victim in any way imaginable. He exited the alleyway to the lit street, the cameras following his every move as he ran for his life. He turned to look back.

Big mistake.

They were far away, far enough that they were no longer a threat. He turned in time to receive a 2x4 to the face. It broke in half with a loud ‘Crack!’ and stopped his fleeing. He looked up to see a fourth pursuer standing over him.

“Please…Please, just let me go!”

“And let half a mil slip away?” the bear replied.  He bent down and picked the feline from up until his feet weren’t touching the ground. “I don’t think so.” He turned and slammed him to the ground back first, knocking any remaining air out of his lungs.

The clydesdale, wolf, and skink caught up quickly, all three looking down with sadistic grins.

The cat rolled to all fours. “Please…I didn’t…do anything…”

The horse kicked him in the gut, causing their prey to dry-heave. There was nothing to vomit anyways. “Shut the fuck up, ya bitch! We get ours, and you get yours!” He raised his bat and bought it down onto his helpless victim’s knee, making a satisfying ‘Pinkrack!’ of aluminum breaking bone.

The bear walked away a little to let his boys claim their prize. He rolled a joint and prepared to smoke the euphoric vapors when the bolt from a crossbow pierced his eye socket. The spliff fell from his paws, and he fell forward. The sound of his corpse hitting the ground bought his gang’s attention from their victim, who tried to crawl away. With another blow to his shoulder, he stopped.

“C’mon! Show yerselves!” the skink yelled out to nothing. The three stood in an outward triangle. From the shadows of an alley stood two wolves, one brandishing a machete and the other holding a lead pipe. Behind them stood a badger and a rabbit, each one with wooden bats. In front of them stood a grizzly, starting up and revving a chainsaw.

“Shit…oh, shit!” the skink said quietly. The horse held up his bat, ready to die fighting for their prize. The wolf held up his knife-spear, knowing well he was going to die. The skink looked around nervously as he brandished a sledgehammer.

“This won’t be pretty,” I said to myself. And to think, in one month, I will be in the position the cat is in. Hopefully not like that, but I will be his replacement.

At one point and time, I was Robert Dressen, a drug dealer, specifically what’s known as Harsh. (Not Hash. Harsh is considered the bastard child of PCP and Meth. I never used it, though. I just pushed it.) A couple mistakes later, and I’m here as Inmate #672-589-B in the North Harbor Penitentiary, serving life for killing who I thought was my best friend. It turned out that he was undercover, which is why I’m serving life without parole instead of 25 to life like other killers. I should have gotten death, but I pled guilty, thinking I’d like life more than waiting to die. I didn’t.

For those looking for a mental picture, I’m an Irish Wolfhound. I’m about 6’2” with a muscular build. (I don’t look like I’m roided out, but I could be in a fitness magazine if I wasn’t in prison.) I’ve got dark brown hair that I usually have cut short.

Now, I feel obliged to tell you what the fuck I got myself into. Over the course of ten years, I’ve read enough dystopian books to make a good comparison. This game, “Turf Wars,” is a combination of ‘Running Man’ and ‘Battle Royale.’

Ten teams, or rather gangs, made up of ten people each are given ten days to kill each other in ten square blocks. If in ten days, more than one gang exists, everyone dies. They are each given one .32 revolver with only six bullets, a HQ, five days of food, and an assortment of weapons to club, cut, maim, and destroy their competition. It’s broadcasted every Thursday at 8:00 pm, completely uncensored. It’s held every month, and the competition is edited into four episodes. My show will be in two months, but filmed the month before.

Each gang represents a prison gang, so you’d see the Canine Brotherhood, Triads, Yakuza, Mafia, just about any gang you’d think of. There are even gangs of volunteers, who are unaffiliated with any gang but formed one so they can try out.

The prize is one that many seek: Freedom. This show received criticisim for releasing dangerous criminals back into the streets, but their mentality is that the ten (Not that all ten members of the winning gang survive) that are set free are fractions to the hundreds, or even thousands that are in the streets.

There are many buildings in the area, as the battleground is what’s left of a slum area that has been condemned, but bought cheaply by a TV network. A few renovations, and they have a battleground good enough for their new show.

Some buildings have hidden goodies, like weapons (Chainsaw, crossbow, grenades, SMG, magnum revolver, sawn-off shotgun, or .22 rifle), food, medical supplies, or ‘Bitches,’ as they are so cleverly named. Bitches are women or androgynous men that have been on the wrong side of the law, and want out of jail. Unfortunately, they are chained naked to a wall with a few bottles of water and some food. Some are also drug addicts, so they’re itching for freedom more than usual. If they are discovered, freed, and manage to survive, they are free to go. If not, they might be left to rot, or are picked up by the nearest police force. There are only five bitches on the battleground, and the freed ones are usually fought over between and, sometimes, within gangs.

They managed to combine sex and violence quite decently. My bet is the next show involves hand jobs and a bullet to the head of the loser.

Now, as for me-wait, they’re about to fight.

The three surviving gang members stood and faced their attackers. “C’mon, you fucking pussies!” the wolf shouted. “You make the first fucking move!”

The badger, rabbit, and wolves charged in first. The three broke apart to face them. A wild stab from the wolf won a surprised ‘Gurk!’ from the badger, as the knife at the end of the pole was stabbed deep into his belly. He withdrew and stabbed again, this time through his neck. He turned in time to se the machete blade cut through his throat, all the way to his spine.

The skink fell backwards as the white furred hare knocked him down. He raised his bat and bought it down hard, bouncing off of the handle of the sledgehammer. He raised the bat again, swinging harder. This time earned a slight crack from the thinner sledgehammer handle cracking. He raised it up again, but the skink swung his sledgehammer quickly, folding the hare’s lower leg in half. He fell to the ground with a surprised scream, where the lizard crawled up and proceeded to beat him to death using his own bat.

The horse blocked a hit from the pipe wielding wolf, and pushed it away from him. The wolf stumbled backwards, then received a jab from the baseball bat to his muzzle. Against a wall, he received a blow to the back of his neck, earning a loud crack for all to hear.

“NOOOOOO!” yelled the blade-wielding wolf. He charged at the triumphant horse. “YOU MOTHER FUCKER! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” His first wild swing was easily blocked, but his next one scored a slash to his opponent’s thigh. “THAT WAS MY FUCKING BROTHER!” His next slice disarmed the horse. Literally. He fell to the ground as he bled from his stump, the one that held the bat. He was defenseless as the wolf stabbed down on him through his stomach. His blade jammed into the ground as the dieing horse gurgled blood. He pulled hard to get his blade, but he couldn’t get it to budge. He was too occupied to try and stop a sledgehammer from crushing his knee. He fell to the ground and received a hit to the head, violently crushing his skull.

The skink knelt down next to his dieing comrade. “I’m sorry bro. I shoulda got here sooner. I’m sorry…”

The dieing horse gurgled something, but the lizard didn’t understand. “What?”

“Be-behind you!” he gurgled.  The skink turned to see the grizzly closing the gap between them in little time. The lizard was fast, but not fast enough to avoid getting eviscerated by the chainsaw. He struggled to try and crawl away, but another slash from the chainsaw cut his head in half vertically. The battle was over.

From the shadows came a cheetah, a crossbow slung on his back.

“Took you fucking long enough,” the grizzly said with a smirk. “Lotta help you’ve been.”

The cheetah simply grinned and approached the dieing horse. He gurgled what sounded like ‘Fuck you!’ before a .32 bullet pierced his skull with a bang. The horse laid dead, and silent for the first time in this fucking episode.

His attention turned to the other feline, trying to crawl away. He walked up to him, looking down with a reassuring smile. “Oh…oh, thank god you came! Please, you gotta-“

He fell silent when he saw the barrel of the revolver looking him in the eye. With a loud bang and the splatter of brain matter, the prize was claimed. “These guys talked too fucking much,” the cheetah said coldly, but with the smile still on his face. All this in the first episode.

That’s my cue. I am the ‘Running Man’ part. You see, along with freedom, the team that wins and gets the ‘bonus kill’ gets 500,000 Nuyen (the global currency of today. Some don’t like it, but I prefer it to the generic ‘Credits’), and the choice of one gang to eliminate. If I survive, though, I get my freedom. Some have tried to help another gang to win in exchange for protection, but they always end up dieing.

You may be asking, “Why would you go and join a crazy game like this?” My answer? I’m bored. I can’t take it any more. I know that I will more than likely die, but I wanna at least be outside of these walls before I kick the bucket.

(Also going in Yiffstar)