On a dark night, in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, several men have gathered around a pen.
Inside the pen, fragments of fluff in varying colors, and splotches of blood can be seen.
Quite a few of the men have carriers with them, and the occupants of most of said carriers are snarling in high pitched voices, frothing at the mouth.
These fluffies don’t give a damn about huggies and sketties and wub.
All they want is blood and death and gore.
This… is the dark, seedy underworld of fluffy fights.
In an old oil barrel, the corpses of several fluffies have already been dumped.
The ringleader of this little outfit speaks up.
“Next up is… Ripper versus… hmm… Marshmallow. That should be fun to see. Place your bets, gentlemen.”
Most of the men bet on Ripper, a hulking, ill-mannered pet shop reject of an earthie stallion with blood red fluff and bloodshot eyes.
His owner has injected Ripper with a concoction of drugs intended to drive the stallion into a berserker fury.
Only a few are stupid enough to bet on the young, pale pink pegasus mare who is currently trying, and failing, to pretend that she’s not here, and also failing to pretend that she doesn’t know what’s about to happen.
That, or they’ve just got money to piss away.
Once the bets are made, the contestants’ respective carriers are placed in the pen, and opened.
Marshmallow tries to stay in her carrier, but her… shall we say, handler, tips the carrier and dumps her out.
The moment her fluffy little bottom touches the floor, Ripper charges.
“WIPPER KIWW!”
“Nu! Nu huwt Mawshmawwow!”
Ripper’s teeth, carefully sharpened by his owner, sink into Marshmellow’s soft flesh and fluff.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
As more stains of fluffy blood join the ones already on the floor, the remnants of the last round, the men cheer.
“Kill that little bitch, Ripper!”
“Rip her eye out and fuck the hole!”
As Ripper proceeds to do exactly that, the men cheer louder.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Once Ripper has thoroughly enfed Marshmallow’s eye socket, he goes for the killing blow: he tears out Marshmallow’s throat.
“SCREEEEE–gurgle”
The men cheer even louder as Marshmallow lets out her death rattle.
Then, as those who placed winning bets collect their winnings, Ripper is lured back into his carrier. His owner, with expert aim, tosses a foal into the carrier, and when Ripper follows it inside, his owner closes the carrier and removes him from the arena.
“Peep! Chi–”
chomp
While Ripper tears the foal to shreds, Marshmallow’s remains are dumped into the oil barrel.
The ringleader speaks up again.
“Well, that one was a bit predictable, wasn’t it?”
Everyone not small and fluffy laughs.
Everyone who is small and fluffy is either snarling, whimpering in terror, or dead.
“Still, fun to watch. Alright, next is–”
CRASH
The warehouse doors fly off their hinges.
The ringleader turns towards the open doorway.
“Who the fuck is that?”
“THE LAW, YOU SONS OF BITCHES!!!”
“Ah, fuck.”
Calvin Korkea strides into the warehouse. His eyes are burning red as he stares down the cavalcade of scumbags gathered here.
Following him inside are Dave, in demon form, Deston, in his purple robe, and several dozen police officers.
“What you are doing here is illegal, boys. I may not be able to arrest you for it, because I’m not an officer of the law, but these fine gentlemen certainly are, and you’ve been caught red-handed.”
Unfortunately, one of the gamblers present just doesn’t know when to shut up.
“We’re not scared of you–”
FWOOSH
Calvin’s body is wreathed in flames.
They won’t burn. Not unless he decides to let them burn.
“How about now?”
“Eep.”
Calvin walks closer, hatred in his eyes.
“How dare you. How dare you! A fluffy fighting ring! In my city!”
Apparently, being too stupid to shut up is contagious. Another gambler speaks up.
“Your city, Korkea?”
Calvin is suddenly standing right in front of the second idiot.
He leans in close. Calvin has absolute control over his flames. They can be anything from harmless and pleasantly warm, to lethally hot.
Right now, they’re the former. But the latter is still an option.
“Yes. My city. You got a problem with that? Because, like a friend of mine, I just can’t ignore a problem. This city is mine, and that means it’s my job to protect the innocents living here. From bastards like you.”
The second idiot shuts up.
A third idiot decides to speak up, but when Calvin points at him, not even looking at the idiot, a deadly-looking bead of light glowing at the tip of Calvin’s finger, the idiot swallows whatever he was about to say. Calvin lowers his hand, and the bead of light fades away.
If Calvin wasn’t so nice, and so patient, the man would already have a hole blasted through his head.
Calvin addresses the police officers.
“Officers? Take it from here. If any of these morons try to run, we’ll subdue them. You hear that, boys? We won’t hurt you, if you don’t give us any reasons to do so. Got it?”
All but one of the fluffy fighting ring’s members nod frantically.
The last one didn’t nod, because he ran the moment Calvin punched the doors off their hinges, and just barely evaded being spotted by the cops now surrounding the building.
The biggest idiot of all, the one who decided to run, has already made it several blocks away. As he’s catching his breath, he sees an old lady waiting at the crossing.
She turns to him, addressing him in a sweet, grandmotherly voice.
“Could you be a dear and help me cross the street?”
He walks up to her.
“Lady, I don’t have time for–”
She grabs him by his throat, in a death grip, and addresses him again, this time in a rough, gravelly, male voice.
“Oh, you can make time for me. You should have stayed in the warehouse, Ian Rose.”
blip
As the fighting ring’s members are hauled away in police vehicles, Calvin, his eyes blue again, his body no longer wreathed in flames, speaks to one of the officers.
“Good work, Cal. We’ll start questioning them immediately. We think this ring might be part of a larger operation. Could be state wide. Hopefully, we’ll get a lead from at least one of these idiots.”
“Thanks, Officer Wachowski. Honestly, it really pisses me off, seeing the way these fluffies have been treated. What’s going to happen to them?”
“Right now, they’re evidence. And witnesses. A fluffy’s testimony isn’t always reliable, but I think, in this case, it’ll be another nail in this fighting ring’s coffin. After that, I don’t know.”
Deston walks over.
“I think my niece might be able to treat any physical ailments. As for the psychological harm that has been inflicted upon them, well, I’ve never lost a patient yet. If we can’t cure them of their bloodthirst, we can at least put them somewhere where they won’t maul any other fluffies. I really don’t want to have to put them down. It’s just cruel. They didn’t deserve this. And, if I may be completely honest, I’d hate to ruin my perfect record.”
Officer Wachowski chuckles.
“Well, we’ll see. If we get any leads, we’ll let you know.”
“Likewise.”
“Right on.”
As Deston and Officer Wachowski keep talking, Calvin walks over to the carriers full of fluffies. Dave, back in human form, is watching the officers take the fluffies away.
By the look on Dave’s face, Calvin can tell exactly what is going through his friend’s mind.
Calvin stands next to Dave, and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“You were never as bad as these assholes, Dave.”
Dave smiles weakly. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears.
“Thanks, Cal. I needed to hear that.”
IAN ROSE?
“That’s m-- oh, fuck me.”
YOU’VE GOT ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD, NOW.