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Savage and the Ziggurat

By Strega

Sledgehammer was strong. Earlier this evening the cops had shown up as he smashed his way out of a jewelry store and he'd thrown their squad car at them. A little after that a ratman vigilante turned up and Sledge slammed him through a wall, which hadn't killed the rat but did get it out of his hair.

Then the rat's friend showed up and everything went south.

"I haven't eaten a cyborg in a while," rumbled the two-ton tiger whose paw pinned Sledge to the cracked asphalt. Sledge had already tried to fling the big cat off of him, or failing that twist the paw until it broke, but the tiger was braced against the first and just too tough for the second. With his augmentations he was probably as strong as it was but sheer size and mass had their advantages. "Full of delicious iron and minerals."

"Bullshit," Sledge grated, and tried once more to lift the manhole cover-sized paw off his chest. Servos whined in his mechanical arm and the mace-like weight that served him as a fist twitched but the tiger, and its paw, was going nowhere. "You're Savage. You're a hero."

"Doesn't know you very well, does he?" piped the rat, whose face popped up behind the huge tigery one. Sledge had noted the saddle the tiger wore and the rat, recovered from his beating, had climbed into it.

"You hurt those cops badly," the tiger rumbled. "And even bruised me when you hit me with that Prius. No one's going to complain if you just...drop out of sight."

There was something disconcerting about the gaze of a big cat, and more so when it has a three-foot-wide face and paws the size of manhole covers. A tiger has a way of looking at you that reminded you that you are made of meat. The impression worsened when the huge cat worked its jaws in an odd, snakelike way. Joints popped as Savage's jaws unhinged.

There was a sudden wall of fangs and pink maw in front of him as the tiger yawned and Sledge stared in horror into the wet chute of gullet that was about to engulf him.

"Hold on!", the rat yelped, and Sledge saw him tugging on one of the tiger's ears as its jaws snapped shut again. "You're not actually going to eat him, are you? You haven't eaten me in a week!"

"I can't eat you every day," the tiger rumbled, and the ear the rat wasn't tugging flicked around to face his rider. "It takes most of a day to digest you and then you have to shower after you regenerate back from the shit. You can't patrol when you're inside me."

"But it's been ages," the rat begged, and Sledge stared.

"You are a crazy person," Sledge said.

"He's a Were," the tiger said offhandedly. "For him death is temporary. It's convenient for me, though. Saves me the trouble of hunting." He returned his attention to Sledge, and a broad pink tongue moistened his chops. "But a varied diet is nice."

"I know where Janus went," Sledge said, his voice a little higher-pitched and faster than before. "I'll tell you and then you can eat the rat."

He went on, trying to ignore the droplets of drool hanging from the tiger's lips and the grinning rat. Jail didn't sound so bad as long as it got him away from the giant tiger and the insane rat on its back.

*****

Savage belched and licked his chops. Ratbat had wriggled his way down his throat as enthusiastically as ever and though Savage knew perfectly well why he was so happy to be eaten - the rat's arousal could be smelled and felt against the walls of his throat - he was happy to let the rat enjoy himself in return for a meal. Crazy though it probably was for rat to be aroused by the thought of being swallowed, it did save Savage the trouble of hunting. He hadn't lied to Sledgehammer about that.

There was also the fact that the rat was a good friend. If Ratbat looked forward to masturbating in his stomach as he was digested, well, that was fine. It would take more than a trip through a tiger's guts to keep the rat down for the count, judging by the fifty-plus times he had regenerated back from a pile of feline droppings.

Savage knew what it was like to be lonely. There was no one else like him any more and he hadn't had a lover since Jaguaress died. Ratbat had lived a hard life and it was not for him to decide that his friend's habits were unnatural. Ratbat survived and was happy and that was that.

A hundred and eighty pounds of were-rat in his stomach was enough for a comforting sense of fullness but not enough to make him sleepy. He was supposed to wait until the rat or another member of the Feral Four was free before following up this lead, but he was curious. With Sledgehammer turned over to the super-enforcement arm of the police and Ratbat happily digesting, Savage left the garage and followed that lead.

There was the faintest of predawn glows on the horizon, visible over the river and past the meat packing plant that gave the district its name. No need to burn calories on active camouflage; simply shifting his pelt to coal-black was enough. Across the cracked, little-used street from the garage was a building that so far had escaped the renovations taking place down the block. He was rather glad it had since the unpainted facade made a convenient ladder. He crouched and sprang upward, digging his claws between the already much scarred bricks, and in seconds was four stories off the ground on a graffiti-stained concrete roof.

Savage had gained half a ton in the last couple of years and some roofs that once supported his weight now had paw-shaped holes or even gaping pits where an entire tiger fell through. He'd learned which were still strong enough, though, and on soft-padded feet he leapt from building to building.

The number of abandoned buildings in the district was thankfully much lower than when he started patrolling it ten years ago, in no small part because of those very patrols. That did present the small inconvenience of fewer routes along the roofs, since even one strong enough to support him would creak and groan. It was not to his benefit to let people know that much about his movements.

Half an hour and two miles later he peered down into a street more active than most he frequented. Light and music spilled from bars and places where lonely men might go after drinking. He'd been here before, to speak to contacts among the women and occasionally in pursuit of some evildoer, but he didn't remember the narrow, unremarkable door at the entry to a badly lit alley. With a thump two tons of tiger was in the alley sniffing at the door.

Supposedly the supervillain Janus had come "To the Ziggurat" (presumably the name of a bar) here, but he smelled no alcohol past what was thrown up in the alley. It might be a trap, but he was truly curious now. Hopefully not enough so to kill the cat, as the saying went. With a push of a paw the door handle turned and he poked his nose in.

The room beyond was surprisingly large and well lit given he hadn't seen light through the crack. There was nothing of note but a massive, armored door opposite and a bored-looking man in a booth. The man looked up with mild, but clearly waning interest as an enormous tiger stuck its face through the door, and in a disinterested voice intoned "Name, and reason for visit."

"Savage the tiger, vigilante license #3-73," Savage rumbled as he squeezed through the door. "Here to find the supervillain Janus, wanted on probation violation."

"Sure," said the man, and looked at a screen next to him. "I see you've eaten someone recently. Hardly digested at all."

In for a penny, in for a pound. "My friend, 3-151 Ratbat, is a were-rat. He reforms when digested and very much likes being eaten."

"All righty then," said the man, and made a mark on a form. "Welcome to the Ziggurat. I see this is your first visit. Since few from your world have visited I'm crediting your account with one hundred marks. There's a list of rules in the next room."

He touched a control and the heavy, circular door opposite Savage rolled open.

"One last thing," the man said. "If your friend reforms from droppings, do not use a toilet if you expel him here. The sewage reclamation system here may absorb him as it does all refuse. The Ziggurat works in mysterious ways."

"Thank you," Savage rumbled under his breath. From his world? Had he finally embarked on one of the extra-dimensional adventures he heard so much about?

Apparently so. The next room had a diagram of a seven-stepped pyramid on the wall and a list of simple rules. Most relevantly:

"Portals to worlds may close without warning, but this is rare," he read. "Staff members will reform if killed, but this will still be treated as murder unless..." followed by a list of exceptions. Each floor had a theme: There were gladiatorial arenas on the second floor, S&M dives and rooms devoted to drugs on the third, and even rooms on the fourth floor for torture or where staffers would eat or be eaten by guests. Above that was a casino, expensive meeting rooms and the manager's office.

All that was missing was a window looking out into an alien void, but apparently there was no void. This 'Ziggurat' occupied a space in what was thought to be an otherwise solid pocket universe. It had its own physics and rules, magic and technology both worked but sometimes with limits or alterations.

With a chill he realized that he could easily have stepped through into a world with wildly different rules. Ratbat's regenerative powers might not have functioned and had that happened the were-rat's trip through his guts would be his last. He must be careful to return to his own world and not explore any others.

Savage shook his head. It hadn't happened, and he had a job to do here. Past the next door was a hallway and at the end he stepped into a chaos of conversation and activity such as he had rarely experienced.

From the little clear space at the entrance he could see a confusion of tables, signs for restaurants, two bars each with their own bartenders, people dancing in a hall with flashing lights, ten or more doors leading who knew where, and at least two hundred people. He froze where he was for a moment.

The crowd was noisy and ignored him entirely. Waitresses and waiters bustled to and from and they and the patrons were of a bewildering variety of species. An orange eight-foot-tall catman with ears like Chinese parasols nodded to him from nearby and across the room a tall, horned creature like a mythological minotaur caught his eye and nodded as well. Both wore armor and a surcoat with a seven-tiered ziggurat symbol. There were humans, tall pale creatures, things with scales and horns and fur, and creatures entirely alien to him. The noise, the smell of them all overwhelmed him. The only time he encountered this density of people was the district's annual parade, where he acted as a sort of living float and advertisement for the Feral Four.

The shock must be obvious on even his impassive tiger's face and a waitress stopped on her way past with a tray of mugs.

"Hi," the little raccoon lady chirped - so like Technocoon, but a foot shorter even than that - and went on, "I bet you're new here. There's a space for ferals and big critters in the far corner there if you want to relax, order a drink or whatnot."

"Thank you," Savage rumbled, and threaded his way between the tables. Once he flicked his tail aside as a hand reached out to pet it but beyond that he might as well have been invisible. Only a few people looked up from their drinks, meals or board games to acknowledge the six-foot-high-at-the-shoulder tiger walking past.

He saw the 'feral' area well before he reached it by its lack of chairs and assortment of even more unusual creatures. Around one table was coiled a strange blue-armored creature with a dozen legs; something that could only be described as a bear-taur lay near another, sucking smoke from a hookah. It passed the mouthpiece across the table to an enormous, somewhat humanoid skunk who sucked and passed in turn to something hardly at all different from a polar bear. Half a dozen things like varicolored king crabs played what seemed to be a complex dice game with several legs each while other claws gripped tight to the carapaces of their neighbors. They had elaborate engravings and colored metal inlaid into their shells. A green dragon lay sprawled out near a wall, one claw draped protectively over a wine keg. It was the only creature in the room bigger than he was but there was room for even larger beasts.

And then there were the weasels. Four sets of ink-dark eyes turned toward him as he approached, and clawed paws shifted so that each of them could examine him. It took a moment to realize that each of the creatures had an extra set of legs. Clearly they were of the same species though the two large ones were dark green and yellow-white respectively whilst one of the smaller ones was black with a smattering of white stripes like a five-hundred-pound badger. That was the smallest of the four and the largest must easily top seven hundred. All four had complex harnesses studded with unrecognizable devices and ornaments and he guessed at once that they were from a world with far more advanced technology than his Earth.

'His' Earth. Intellectually he knew there were many, along with countless inhabited worlds in his universe and others. It took a visit to this Babel of races to truly grasp how many worlds there were.

One of them gestured to the empty space at their table and pushed a bowl toward it with a forepaw, and with no better plan of action he sat back on his haunches and sniffed. It was simple water, and he lapped up a pint or two as he considered what they had on their own plates. Each had a mug of what closely resembled blood, complete with a straw they would suck from time to time, along with a bowl of water and a communal platter with twenty or so pounds of raw meat.

"Greetings, stranger," the large green one hissed through knife-sharp fangs. "I am Venya, called Bluefur," and Savage noted the streak of electric-blue that ran along its (his?) flanks. "Here is my mate Strega," that being the black-and-white, "My son Freyla," the yellow-white, "And my daughter Shrilka," the other green. "We too are new here, save for Strega, and are here to watch the matches."

"I am Savage," he rumbled, conscious as always that it was not much of a name, "Matches?"

"Sometimes they show previous arena fights on the screens," hissed the badgery one - Strega. "They are going to show a short fight that Blackfur had recently, plus others."

"Blackfur is a famous monster, and his sons and daughters - all his tribe, they call Blackfur," hissed Shrilka. She was much larger than her mother and only a hair smaller than the two males. Their voices were all so similar that had he not been told he would have no idea as to their genders. Assuming, of course, that they had not lied or simplified for clarity's sake.

The small talk, chittering and rattle of exoskeleton from nearby tables ceased as they turned collectively toward the large screen on the wall.

It was a short match. On the one hand was a long-tailed black monster with a mane of thick white fur from which protruded shiny black quills and on the other a bronze-maned lionman with a long spear used with deft skill. The lion at first had the upper hand until the panthery black beast managed to trap the spear beneath itself and swat the lion to the ground.

Savage turned his eyes away as the lion let out a piteous shriek. The black beast had stepped over him where he lay, sank its teeth into his scruff to hold him still and mounted him.

He looked back at a muffled sound and found Blackfur, still humping powerfully, had his jaws around the lion's head and swallowing him alive even as it rutted. When the thing rolled onto its back and exposed every detail of the mating he looked away once more. This time he kept his eyes averted through the rhythmic growl, the sounds of struggle, and finally the muffled snarl of passion. He didn't return his eyes to the screen until the bloodied beast let out a lengthy belch, and by that time the only trace the lion had been there was a pregnant-looking bulge in its midsection.

"It was a grudge match," badgery Strega hissed, and had the good grace to seem almost apologetic. "It is not always like that. Death is common in the arena but not, usually, rape."

"It is only rape with the unwilling," Shrilka hissed, bright-eyed. "He would not need to force me."

"Or me," Strega admitted, which didn't seem to phase her mate at all. "He is a sexy beast."

Savage grunted noncommittally and began to rise, which made the badgery female let out an amused hiss. "Not all of us have someone who wants to be eaten, tiger. Some of us have to hunt."

"What -" began Savage, but now the large green female was angered.

"Was your dinner of rat more savory because he wanted it?"

"Does everyone here have X-ray eyes," Savage complained, feeling picked upon.

"No X-rays are needed, large friend," Venya hissed. "The smell of it is all over you. Rat is on your breath and yet no smell of fear, but rather lust. That rat wanted to be where he is right now."

"All right," rumbled Savage, and settled back down. "I am hardly an innocent. Still, the rape was too much for my taste."

"Grudge matches are to the death," Strega hissed. "Anything goes."

Something on the screen caught Savage's eye and his ears and muzzle snapped around. There for all to see was a twelve-foot-tall creature with gray scales, bludgeoning fists, and most importantly, two heads.

"Janus!" Savage exclaimed as the figure on the screen swatted an armored man aside. Half a dozen more came at him with spears and greatswords but they were simply outmatched. Janus's armor was too tough for them to do more than lightly wound him and soon he stood triumphant atop a pile of battered bodies.

"He is the one I am here to catch," he rumbled, which provoked a hiss of amusement from Strega.

"Good luck," she said. "He works here now. They will not let you take him, and if you kill him the power of the Ziggurat will reform him."

That was a quandary. Savage watched the next match, one involving a tall gangly hyena-man and several pygmy-like humans, before a thought occurred.

"Tell me more about grudge matches," he rumbled.

*****

"I have a grudge against Janus," he rumbled. The gladiators in the little readying-room noticed him, unlike the barflies, but their glances had the sort of measuring look an athlete gives a potential opponent. They were not startled or terrified at the sight of an enormous tiger. They had seen weirder, and more frightening things, but they did notice him. Sitting down he took up about a quarter of the floor space.

"He has hurt my friends", he went on, "And he has hurt me. I wish to hurt him in return."

"Grudge matches are to the death," the human said. "And Janus works here. If you kill him, he will reform. Even if you eat him. But if he kills you -"

"I do not care," Savage rumbled. "I volunteer to fight him. Now, if possible."

There was a whispered conversation between two of the trainers that even his ears could not entirely catch.

"Janus is very strong, very tough," said the head trainer.

"So am I," Savage said, and that settled it. They could hardly turn him down, could they? Even here, how many giant tigers did they have to send before the crowd?

Not enough, it seemed. "There is an opening in the schedule," the arena master said. "And Janus is willing to face you. It will be in an hour. Make your peace, Janus will return if you slay him but you will not if he kills you."

The roar of the crowd was like nothing Savage had encountered. There must have been thousands of them, clustered around the top of the high stone wall of the arena and in box seats above that. As bewildering a variety of races as he'd seen in the bar. His ears flattened at the almost-painful sound as he kept his attention firmly on his opponent.

The packed earth he stood on smelled of blood and bile and urine. Many had come here to fight and many had died. Even he might die here, he realized. He was powerful and tough, more than a match he thought for Janus, but he'd lost fights he should have won before.

Fifty feet away Janus grinned, snaggle-toothed and ugly and he rubbed his stone-hard knuckles. Janus was twice as tall as a man, broad, strong and bulletproof.

"You've come a long way looking for me, cat," the giant shouted. "You can't bring me back, you know. Even if you kill me, I'll stay here - but I can kill you!"

Savage said nothing, but bared his fangs and snarled. The noisy crowd silenced for a moment, stunned by the sound that kicked dust up from the arena floor. Great muscles tensed under his Kevlar-tough striped hide, and then he leapt.

The crowd roared again as two tons of muscular cat sprang claws-first at Janus. The giant hurled himself to the side to avoid Savage and swung powerfully at the big cat's head, but off balance he only managed a grazing hit. With a flurry of swipes Savage returned the favor, his steel-hard claws scoring Janus's bulletproof hide but barely bringing out any blood. The giant was as tough as he remembered.

And as strong. Janus danced aside from the next lunge with surprising speed and fired a full punch into Savage's cheek. The blow rocked the big cat's head and would have decapitated him outright if he were the simple fleshy beast he resembled.

But Savage had spent years tweaking his form with his innate shape-changing powers. His bones were largely carbon fiber with organic carbon nanotubes and sapphire whiskers grown in, his muscles had webs of Kevlar-tough connective tissue and his pelt would stop anything shy of a high-caliber armor piercing round all by itself. He didn't know it, but the pain he suffered while changing shape - which was the main reason he didn't do it much any more - was entirely due to his own efforts to make himself tougher.

His toughness had come at a cost but it was useful. A blow that would have killed an elephant only stunned him for an instant and Savage had been hit in the head enough times for his reflexes to take over. As Janus's mighty fist went by the great cat's jaws closed and Savage spun where he stood, lifting Janus from his feet and slamming the giant into the arena wall.

Unlike his claws his sharp canines pierced Janus's steely hide and as the giant struggled all four of Savage's paws pushed him away, claws scrabbling for a grip. With a supreme effort Savage yanked and Janus screamed as bones popped free of their joints. Only the enormously tough hide of the giant kept his arm attached to his body and so many of the muscles tore he had to use his legs and other arm to finally hurl Savage off of him.

There was a collective shout of glee from the crowd as they took pleasure in their gladiator's injuries. The fight Savage had seen had been one of a series of easy wins for the giant and he'd been a bit too smug about it. A few in the crowd, the regulars who lived in the Ziggurat, knew that even if Janus died he'd be back, but to the more numerous tourists it was a bloody fight to the death.

Janus climbed painfully to his feet, left arm dangling limply, and confronted Savage. The huge cat seemed to grin despite the blood dripping from his chin. The effort had cracked the incredibly tough bones in his jaw and one of his great canines had snapped off at the gumline. Already there was less blood as the product of the Professor's genius regenerated.

That supervillain would be proud of Savage were he still alive. There was a cairn of stones in the weed-filled courtyard of the Feral Four's headquarters that rested atop the buried remains of the Professor, or what Savage's digestive system had made of him. Such was the habit that man had made of returning from death and defeat that Savage didn't even trust him to stay a pile of shit. If he did try to return, there were several feet of packed earth and a ton of rocks between him and daylight. Savage's first love had died at the Professor's hand and even ten years later the cairn was well watered with tiger urine.

"You don't have your thugs to back you up this time," the tiger rumbled. "You aren't so much without them."

"Come ahead then, cat," Janus grated. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Then I will make you suffer a bit before you go," Savage rumbled, and sprang again.

Janus didn't go down easily. He might see his defeat coming but with his back to the wall he kicked and punched and even bit even as clubbing blows of Savage's forepaws drove him ever backward. The tiger hounded him mercilessly, striking the injured shoulder at every opportunity and tough as Janus was the pain of torn muscle made him grunt in agony each time. Finally he stumbled, went to one knee after a failed attempt to get Savage into a one-armed headlock, and a mighty paw slammed him to the ground. Two more blows drove Janus's face into the hard-packed earth and he stirred only feebly as the giant tiger stepped in, working his jaws until the lower one popped off its hinges.

Many in the crowd had seen fighters eaten alive before but none had ever seen one so large go down a hungry throat. Janus recovered enough to realize what was happening when Savage's jaws slipped past his shoulders but his faces were in the cat's gullet by then and injured as he was it was too late to save himself. Savage sprawled out on his side with his forepaws gripping his bulky meal tight and bit by bit forced more of Janus into his maw.

He could swallow a man with one swift dart of his muzzle and a gulp, but it took over five minutes to get Janus down. Only the clone of himself he'd once eaten was a bigger meal and his jaws stretched wide on elastic ligaments as shoulders and torso and then hips disappeared down his throat. The tough gray armored hide of his meal protected Janus from his claws and fangs as he ate but though they could not draw blood they still dug into the steel-tough skin and kept him from struggling free. When Savage sat up, massive gray legs kicking from his jaws, it was nearly over.

One, twice, and then a third time he heaved his muzzle upward, using gravity to help his meal go down and thrusting his jaws forward each time. When he paused to rest for a moment there was nothing left of Janus but a great bulge stretching down through his neck fur and a pair of barely moving feet on ankles thick as telephone poles.

The crowd let out a roar as Savage swallowed, some cursing Janus for costing them bets or out of simple bloodlust. Savage pulled his chin down toward his chest to help force the last of his meal into his gullet and then stretched, gulping with all his might. His ribs were drum-tight around the bulky meal and their desire to shrink inward helped send Janus sliding down into the elastic pelt below them. Savage grunted as his belly distended around an unhappy and still struggling meal.

If Janus had been uninjured he might have caused a lot of trouble for the big cat from in there but with one arm useless, half smothered, and weak from his beating all he could do was kick futilely. It still made Savage's swollen belly bulge and shift and dozens in the crowd laughed as the gallons of air that had gone down with Janus came back up in the form of a mighty belch.

"Very nice," the arena master said when Savage, belly drooping heavily, returned to the little readying room. "Well performed. Everyone could see that you hated him and it was commendably dirty fighting."

"I didn't do it for the crowd," Savage rumbled.

"Of course not. Now hold still." Such was the tone of command that Savage did exactly that as the man clipped something onto his ear. He flinched only slightly when the giant in his gut kicked. The struggle in there was just about over.

"That's a winner's earring. You can keep it or sell it. The Ziggurat staff will give you a thousand marks for it."

"I didn't ask for pay," Savage rumbled, but the man just shrugged.

"You're getting it anyway. Come back any time. Now, you know, normally when someone gets eaten the victor coughs them back up once the crowd can't see them."

That brought a snarl of a laugh out of Savage. "Janus isn't getting out of my body until I am good and done with him."

"You know he won't stay dead."

"He'll still know his old self is tiger shit. That's good enough."

A little later Savage muffled a small, smug belch as he made his way back into the Ziggurat entry chamber. He'd been here for half a day and the same man was still in the booth. Long shift, or did the man ever actually sleep?

"Ah, Mr. Savage," the man said in the same disinterested tone. "I see you got your man."

"Dead or alive, the warrant said," Savage rumbled, and muffled another belch. "Now I just want to get home and sleep off my meal. Earth 611, I think you said."

"That's right."

Savage was nonplussed when he hooked the exit door open with his claws and there was nothing but stone behind it.

"Its been tried," the man said without looking up from some bit of paperwork. "Several times before now."

Savage turned to find the man finally paying attention to him. "What do you mean?"

"Janus is very tough," the man said. "And heals as well as you do. Even that wouldn't have kept him alive if you'd been trying to digest him...and had you not been swallowing air for him all this time. You somehow turned off your stomach acids so you could take him out of the Ziggurat alive and turn him in."

Savage sighed. "I did hope you didn't scan as thoroughly on the way out as you do the way in."

That made the man smile. "I appreciate you're just trying to do your job, and yes, Janus is an ass. But I can't let you take him away alive. It sets a bad precedent. So you can cough him up or I can assign you a room."

"I'm not coughing him up," Savage said, thinking about mostly-digested Ratbat in there as well. Who knew what would happen if he coughed up some of the rat and the rest left his body the other way? He should have thought of that before he ate Janus!

"That's fine. I'll arrange for you to have a room to sleep in until your belly is flatter. There are feral-friendly quarters available. Remember, don't use the toilets until your rat friend reappears. I'll have a suitably sized chamber pot brought in for you to use until then."

Savage turned his belly acids back on, taking some comfort from the gurgles as the unconscious Janus finally began to digest, and a few hours later a very confused Ratbat made his appearance, regenerating back from the first bowel movement Savage had had since getting here. Savage gave him some money and sent him off to the bar and went back to sleep. Janus was tough as old leather and it'd take as long to digest and pass him as it had his own clone. In fact, if the staff was right, the new Janus would probably be up and about before the last of the old one exited Savage's body. All in all it hadn't been a very successful expedition.

A day and a half later his belly had only a modest droop and a least a ton of what used to be Janus had been dispatched down the Ziggurat's cloaca, there to be recycled or absorbed or whatever the strange place did with waste. He would be a couple of hundred pounds heavier for weeks after such a huge meal. If he ate like that more often he'd be a very fat tiger indeed.

Bored with the limited entertainment available on what amounted to a large TV set in his room he returned to the bar. Ratbat was nowhere to be found and Savage eventually sat down in the feral area, had the waitress bring a bowl of water, and settled down to watch the huge TV screens with everyone else, and people-watch when that failed.

It did not take him long to realize that unlike the last time, he was noticed now. People elbowed (or tentacled, or whatever) their friends and pointed at him and his sensitive ears picked up discussions about his fight with Janus. Quite a few women, some men, and various creatures of indeterminate gender suddenly seemed to find him very interesting indeed. It made him a bit nervous.

"Not used to being the center of attention?" came a hissing voice, and he looked down to find the green female weasel-thing had padded up to his table. There was no sign of her family. Shrilka, he thought her name was.

"Not like this, no.". A human woman a few tables over gestured to him in a way that left little doubt as to what she wanted and he would have blushed were he able.

"Arena fighters are popular. Successful ones can have pretty much any lover they want. You've only had one match, but it was a memorable one." She gestured to a waiter and soon had a bowl of blood to lap up.

"I just wanted to bring in my man," Savage rumbled. "And in this I failed. I hoped to sneak Janus out alive in my belly but they'd seen that trick before."

"Mm," she murmured. "My mother can swallow prey whole like that. Not me, though. It takes a lot of modifications and it's not my thing."

"I don't do it often, but sometimes it's useful to make people disappear."

"And then there's the rat," she hissed, and Savage nodded.

"He likes it and it saves me time hunting," he rumbled.

"I asked him if he wanted me to eat him but he didn't want to be torn apart. I can't blame him, really," she hissed. "I think he went off with one of those big cat people. Who or what will end up inside who, I could not say."

Savage smiled. "Maybe this trip hasn't been a complete loss, then."

Her bowl of blood was empty. "You are a large and interesting male, Savage. Would you like to come to my room?"

It had been a very long time since a woman invited him to her room, and she was a strange woman indeed. In all his life he'd only had one lover shaped like himself, years ago, and she'd been closer to his size than Shrilka was.

But he hadn't forgotten how it all worked and she was the closest thing to a tigress he was likely to get. Shortly after her offer he found himself alone with the six-legged weasel thing, his fangs in her scruff driving a hiss of anticipation out of her as he stepped over her to mount. Tigers are not so well endowed but he was a very big tiger and everything seemed to fit just fine. What was left of his belly bulge pressed her to the floor as he mounted and he rolled over as his shaft slid in, sharp claws raking his armor-tough hide. He was bigger but she was very strong and very vocal, letting out a rattling hiss each time his barbed cock pulled back for another thrust.

He had never been able to be this rough with his few human lovers, not even superhuman Jaguaress, and not since his dead mate Shadow had he been able to really let go. They both snarled and writhed, her teeth as sharp as her claws as he used his greater mass to hold her down for mating.

The plan had been to leave the Ziggurat with a belly full of prisoner and never return on pain of whatever punishment they deemed appropriate for kidnapping. That hadn't happened and now he could leave and, if he so desired, return at will.

Hunched over the much smaller female and thrusting with all his might, Savage considered that he had a reason to return now. A very good reason indeed.