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Trouble in Little Moscow

One

Cages stood in the gloom of the small warehouse; each housing a humanoid creature with twisted genetics which belied their animalistic origins. Blood-thirsty cries of a crowd came from outside momentarily reaching an echoing crescendo in the twilight of the otherwise quiet storage area.

Bright light flooded the space as the double doors swung open abruptly. A large man dressed in blue overalls marched through the opening dragging behind him a bulky furred body by a long-handled metal hook.

From one of the cages closest to the door a dark furred feline clung to the bars of her cage, craning her head she watched as the man passed. The stench of blood and urine trailed from the body he dragged, her nose wrinkled in revulsion at the unfamiliar smells. Nervously her eyes went to the cage to her right; it had belonged to the dead and bleeding creature which the man was dumping on a wheeled palate in the corner. The cage to her left contained a hideously scarred dog-like creature which lay dozing.

She knew that the empty cage meant she was due to be wheeled through the doors and into the horrors that lay beyond. Her short thick muzzle awkwardly formed the words 'Calm Verushka. Focus Verushka.' over and over again, softly, as if it were a mantra. But calm eluded her as estrus had swollen her incessantly pulsing sex. Her loin cloth dripped with the scorching anticipation that flooded her veins.

She shrunk back from the cage bars fearing that the man would immediately pull her cage out and wheel her to her doom but when he was past and it became apparent that he wouldn't take her she called to him uncertainly 'Trainer?'

The man stopped, looking around; spotting her shaking claw he knelt by her cage. In an intrigued Nieu-Rus accent he said 'So, you can talk.'. Avoiding his eyes she nodded shyly. 'Do you know trainer name?' She nodded. 'What is it?'

'Velikofsky' she said stammering through the name. He stood just as the doors opened again, the noise of the crowd flooded in.

Recognizing his familiar grey coat she almost screeched in delight 'Veli!' Startled by her excitement, the blue overalled-man jumped, indignant and angry he swung the hook through the bars catching her chin with the blunt end. She retreated to the rear of the cage hissing at him.

'Fucking Muts.' he cursed at her swinging into the cage again but the man known as Velikofsky was upon him restraining his arm. The man started to struggle but Velikofsky pushed him forward, when the man compensated he pulled suddenly and the man went flying over his knee landing in the stench of bodily fluids staining the concrete floor.

'The other one died too,' Velikofsky said evenly, also in Nieu-Rus, while indicating the door with a wide sleeve 'you should go do your job.'

The other man stood, retrieved his hook and with a pointed finger at Velikofsky said 'I didn't know this one was yours. She looks shit. Small and weak. Won't last long.' He spat over his shoulder at Velikofsky whose hand produced a long cane from the depths of his coat; the cane resembled a knobbed club more than an instrument for walking. The man made a hasty retreat.

'Veli.' the feline called again with an outstretched paw.

Velikofsky knelt by the cage; large slitted eyes shone green in the fluorescent gloom, velvet fur covered sleek lines of finely corded muscle, her form ended in a petit white puff at the end of a black tail as long as her body. Pressed up against the bars she displayed her abdomen to him, white from sex to her small breasts.

He enveloped her clawed hand in his 'Have you been doing the breathing exercises Vanya?'

'Yes,' she nodded.

He observed her silently, reading the tension in her nervous fingers and the fear in the restlessness of her body. Her pupils danced erratically. Their eyes met and her reservations spilled over 'Veli, must I fight? Must I kill?'

Taking her neck gently in his hand he nudged her down, understanding, she lay with her back on the floor. He took her narrow hips and pulled her backside tightly to the bars 'We have twenty minutes before you must fight,' he fished a small black dildo from a coat pocket, 'I must relieve the "heat".' He lifted the loin cloth exposing her engorged and dripping sex.

Hesitant claws fell on the loin cloth as her raspy catlike speech organs struggled with the words 'I don't want to, not here.'

'Don't be difficult Vanya.' A stern look came into his eyes, she let him lift the cloth. He slid the dildo over her vaginal lips collecting lubricant before he positioned the tip at her slit. Her raging hormones made her shudder violently at the promise of release as he slid the rubber phallus into her. A feline ankle slid through the bars as she started squeaking in high pitched calls. 'Shh, quiet Verushka!'

She clamped her claws over her muzzle as he took her ankle and pulled her tighter against the cage. He played her like a quaking violin, angling the dildo to push against her clitoris coming out; her almost serpentine body would contort and shudder then, he built up the hurried rhythm sending her hormone ridden body into convulsions.

'Yes, you're a little slut when you're in heat little Vanya. If you win for me I can afford some meat for dinner, maybe even beef. I will give you some.' he watched as her eyes grew large and knew that she was about to release. 'Cum for me kitten. Tonight we will eat and I will make you feel good. Just win kitten, break ankles or knees, scratch out eyes and tear your opponent's throat from his neck.'

Her eyes rolled back in her skull, her back arched violently as she came in shuddering gasps barely muffled behind her fingers. Clear fluids spilled from her pussy, mingling with the already ripe air.

He lowered her to the concrete, a rag appeared from the coat. He wiped the dildo which disappeared again then set about wiping the moisture from around her genitals. Wiping her thighs he was distracted by large luminous eyes glaring at him over her small mounds, melancholy was heavy in his tone, 'Ach, Vanya, my pretty. I am a hard man but seeing you in this state,' stowing the rag he motioned for her to get up, she did so, silently waiting for him to continue, 'there is no other way I can think of to live. I must go by this path, do you understand that?' She didn't reply but held on to his hand through the bars.

Getting to his feet he disentangled his hand from her 'I think, sometimes I see too much in you, not as a beast of burden.' Coming from his reverie he clapped impatiently saying 'Ten minutes. Breathe, calm, focus and kill. Quick one handed swings, hard two handed. Break, then kill. Break, then kill.'

She nodded solemnly, he turned then walked along the recently empty cages. His fingers thudded against the bars as he went. He stopped by the door casting a last look at his Mut's cage, bright green disks reflected back at him from the cage. As if to remind himself he whispered 'To change the world one must, first, be of the world.', then with a deep breathe he swung open the doors and light exploded on him.

He entered a large, brightly lit concrete hole with a layer of already red soiled sand. The man in blue overalls passed him with a sour look as he dragged the last corpse from the arena. Velikofsky climbed several meters along a rope ladder to the stands. Across the pit from where he emerged a large concrete floor denoted the bar area; it was already filling with the well-fed of Little Muscovy. Rows of large fluorescent lights hung from steel beams in the voluminous space.

Some of the patrons sat on the three tiered stands, waiting with Roubles in hand to place bets on the next bout, tables along the railing were generally occupied with the more well-to-do guests.

Velikofsky apologetically squeezed past several pairs of knees as he made his way towards the bar to wait for the betting to begin. The last of his savings was about to be gambled on the frightened creature trembling in her cage a story below him.

The ten 200 Rouble notes felt thin in his pocket. He considered buying a decent Vodka to calm his nerves but decided against it; Verushka would not get good odds and 50 Roubles spent on Vodka could easily translate to 500 Roubles he wouldn't win. Ten to one odds, he thought as a dreadful doubt weighed his mind.