A Breathtaking Show
Written by TwistedSnakes
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Decro woke up with a throbbing headache.
"Oww... what the..."
The wolf groaned as his vision cleared up. He was in a dark, empty room. It was cold.
Where was he? His clothes were gone. His wrists were cuffed together behind his back.
Damn it.
Panic set in as he took stock of his situation. Steel cuffs were locked around his wrists and connected to a chain. The other end of the chain led into a hole in the centre of the room. Decro cautiously approached the hole and peered in. The opening was as wide as his arm span. The pit was filled with water, and deep blue light shimmered through its rippling surface.
There must be another way out. As his eyes got used to the darkness, he made out a door on one side of the room. He hastily headed towards it. Before he could reach it, his wrists were held back, straining against his shoulders.
"Oww."
The chain was too short. He couldn't reach the door.
"Hello? Anyone there?"
No response. He tugged on the chain, but it was too strong.
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit."
What was going on? A fearful gasp escaped his lips. The cold was getting to him, and it didn't help that he was naked. He sat on the floor and hugged his knees to his chest.
Cold.
So cold.
Decro woke up to the sound of an announcer's voice.
"Ladies and gentlemen! You've waited all month for this, so without much further ado, let's bring in the star of tonight's show!"
The chain clattered to life as it was retracted into the hole, dragging the wolf towards it at an alarming speed. There was a splash as he was pulled into the water. As Decro swallowed some of it, he realised that it wasn't water. It had a horrible chemical taste, like a combination of bleach and gasoline.
The fluid was viscous, resisting his movements as he kicked up to the surface to cough up the liquid. He caught a breath of air before the chain dragged him beneath the surface. He twisted and thrashed about, but he couldn't reach the surface.
Don't panic.
The wolf snapped into focus. If he wanted to survive, he'd need to be smart about this. He relaxed his body to preserve his precious oxygen. He opened his eyes carefully. The liquid stung, but he needed to take stock of his situation. Bubbles caused by his thrashing obstructed his vision, but he did his best to look around.
He was in a cylindrical tank, illuminated by blue lights built into its base. The tank was on a raised stage in the middle of the room, encircled by a vast audience of people dressed in fancy suits and dresses. The room reminded him of a theatre, except he was surrounded on all sides by the audience. The people looked surprised as they took in the sight.
Decro kicked sideways against the glass wall, slamming his shoulder against the opposite wall. He couldn't speak unless he wanted to get more resin in his mouth, but he hoped his expression was enough to convey his message. But nobody moved to free him. Everyone remained in their seats, somehow entertained despite his suffering.
No, that was wrong. They were entertained by his suffering. They were here to watch his predicament.
Damn it!
Okay. Don't panic.
Through the glass, he could hear the muffled voice of the announcer.
"$7500 from number 216. Do we have an $8000?"
A person raised a white paddle with the number "182" printed on it. Someone else followed up with a "564" paddle.
"$8000 from number 182. $8500 from 564. That was quick."
Were they auctioning him off?
Cold despair gripped Decro's chest and he could feel his resolve break. But he couldn't give in, not like this. He leaned his back against the glass and pressed his feet against the opposite side with all his strength. It didn't budge. He pulled his legs back and kicked. There was a deafening thump, but the glass held strong. He kicked again. Nothing.
"It seems our friend is trying to escape! We have a fighter on our hands tonight," the announcer's voice boomed. "That's no easy feat, in case you guys are wondering. Keeping a level head when you're running out of breath is impressive. And we have a $10,000 from number 454. We've hit the first lifeline, ladies and gentlemen."
Lifeline? What did that mean? He could hear a clanking sound in his tank and he looked around for the source. He found it at the bottom of the tank where the chain was connected. A hidden mechanism was extending the chain, giving him more space to move.
Air!
Decro swam upwards. His body felt heavy in the viscous fluid, and each movement took all the strength he could muster. He was close to the surface. Just one more--
The clanking returned and the chain was retracted. He was pulled back to the middle of the tank.
"So close! Time is running out, ladies and gentlemen. If you want to keep him alive for just a bit longer, keep the bids coming. The next lifeline is at $20,000. We have a $12,000 from 391. Do we have a $14,000?"
Decro closed his eyes and hugged his chest tightly. His lungs were screaming at him to breathe, but he had to fight the instinct. He hated the idea of people bidding for him like he was a mere product to be auctioned off, but it was the only mechanism that was keeping him alive.
The wolf whimpered. Who put him in this situation? And why?
He squeezed his chest and expelled air from his nose. It helped to quell the urge to take a deep breath of the liquid.
"$20,000!"
Decro didn't hesitate. He swam to the surface for air. The chain held him back, but if he tilted his head up, he could just about get a scant breath of air through his nose. The vapours of the liquid smelled noxious and acidic, but at least he could breathe. He was about to exhale for a second breath when the chain pulled him down again.
Focus. Focus.
He had more oxygen now to make it to the next lifeline. If he kept it up, he could make it to lifeline after lifeline until the bids stopped coming. Then what next? He tried not to think about it.
"$30,000! $30,000 from number 341"
Decro opened his eyes and kicked upwards for a much-needed breath. Before he could reach the surface, there was a painful jerk on his wrists. The chain wasn't extended enough.
"Oh ho ho! It seems our star is a little too eager. Your next lifeline, my friend, is at $40,000."
There were screens throughout the room, all of them showing the same numbers: the current bid of $32,000, the next lifeline at $40,000, and the duration he's been in the tank. It's only been 3 minutes.
"Can you make it until then? I believe in you!"
He held his breath. His lungs were bursting. He let out a gasp of used air. The bids were rising. Just a bit more...
"Lifeline!"
Decro expelled all the air in his lungs and swam to the surface. He drew in a deep breath and held it as the chain dragged him back into the viscous depths. Despite the acrid stench, the air gave him a peaceful feeling in his chest. But that faded away all too quickly, turning into an ache in his lungs. His mind was in a daze and his vision grew blurry.
He looked at the closest screen. The bid was only at $43,000. The next milestone is $60,000. He wasn't going to make it unless he did something.
"It seems the star of our show has resigned to his fate, ladies and gentlemen! Are you going to just float there until your oxygen runs out?"
The taunts cut deep. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be in a tank, drowning for the entertainment of the rich.
"Put up a fight, young man. Show our fine audience tonight how much you want to live."
Fuck.
Decro stomped against the glass with a sneer. Frustration furrowed in his brows as he held back the urge to take an angry breath.
People must've liked his reaction because the bids came in fast.
"$45,000! $50,000! $60,000!"
The wolf didn't wait. He pushed against the fluid and kicked to the top. Just high enough for his nose to poke over the top. Some of the viscous liquid got in his nostrils as he breathed in. He choked, losing precious oxygen.
"Next lifeline comes in at $100,000. Will our wolf make it until then? You have the power to decide with your bidding."
Decro knew he wasn't going to make it. He knew he was going to die here. He might as well end his suffering and take a deep breath of the liquid.
"Aww, is our star giving up already? Here's something that might perk you up: if the bidding reaches a million, we'll let you go."
His ears perked up. He took a moment to consider, then he steeled his resolve. He would fight, but not for the entertainment of these people. No, he'd survive this ordeal just to spite them. A giant middle finger for the people who were here to watch him die a horrible death.
He strained and pulled. The cuffs on the wrists were cutting into his flesh. He struggled against them anyway.
"$70,000 from 618!"
"$80,000 from 277!"
"$85,000 from 180!"
Just a bit more...
"$100,000!"
Decro kicked his way up to the surface. He was used to the chemical smells, so his next breath was tolerable. That split second was all he had before he was pulled into the depths below.
Decro was tired. His lungs were burning. His mind was struggling to hang on. An hour of restrained breaths and laboured swimming was taking its toll on him. His body had been pushed to its limits, and he had nothing left to give.
The current bid was $830,000, way too short of the $900,000 needed for the next lifeline. He hung his head as his body drifted to the bottom of the tank. His body was consuming the last of the oxygen in his lungs and he had nothing left. He could hear the last of his heartbeats throb in his chest.
"And we have a million from 350!"
There was the sound of fanfare. He was free! He launched himself off the bottom of the tank and swam twoards the surface. His nose reached the surface and he took a deep breath... only for the chains to pull him back under. He inhaled the liquid and choked as it scorched his lungs.
Fuck, it burns.
"Oh dear, that must've hurt! $1,000,000 means you get to go, but it doesn't mean you get a cheeky breath!"
His feelings of betrayal must've been etched all over his face as the audience guffawed and cheered.
"As promised, we'll let you go! You'll be going with the highest bidder, who gets to decide if you're leaving this place unscathed or... preserved."
Preserved?
"So what will it be, 350? How would you like to bring home the star of tonight?"
The spotlight shone on a tiger in a black suit with the "350" paddle in his hand. He met Decro's pleading gaze and smirked.
"Preserved."
No!
The blue lights around the wolf turned purple as their UV rays permeated the liquid.
Decro kicked the glass in frustration. He had been lied to! He was promised freedom! Yet there was nothing he could do about the injustice but resign to his fate. Logically, he knew he was as good as dead. But his survival instincts pushed on and he kicked for the surface. The chain around his wrists held him back.
But he had to try.
He kicked and swam for the surface that was out of reach. His shoulders ached as he pulled and strained. The liquid around him grew warm as it thickened. This whole time, he had been swimming in liquid resin. As the beams of UV light cured the resin, it was only a matter of time before it turned completely solid. Solid with the wolf encased within.
Decro felt his struggles slow to a halt. Overcoming the viscous liquid required strength he no longer had. The resin restricted his movements, concealing his body's final convulsions. His legs were stuck mid-flutter-kick. His head was pointed up to the surface, held back by his arms cuffed behind him. His eyes looked pleadingly at the surface as the resin held it open. His mouth opened as his last breath escaped his lungs in bubbles, forever captured in the curing epoxy.
The audience watched in awe as the light left the wolf's eyes and his body was beautifully preserved for the rest of eternity.
~ End ~