Vin felt his footpads scrape along the worn stones beneath the coliseum, only able to hear the dull roar of the crowd above and the labored breathing of the two guards as they dragged him down the hallway. Reaching a large circular room with cells and guttering torches scattered evenly around its perimeter, the guards paused for a moment as the magister hustled up behind them, stomach wobbling just as much as his long floppy ears. Not even having the energy to raise his head, blood dripped out from between his incisors to pool beneath him, allowing Vin to gaze at the pitiful reflection as the magister caught his breath and fought with the massive amount of keys that he attempted to pull from a side pouch.

A face puckered with scars and bared teeth gazed back at Vin, his once tall and proud ears having been rendered no more than rounded stubs from the amount of times his opponents had bitten and torn at them. His fur did not escape unscathed either from his years in the ‘royal’ fighting pits, though that was more self-harm than anything else. A bit too much Golden Sun to ease the pain, and your fur starts to grow patchy, eventually falling out if a Konijn couldn’t stop themselves from shooting up. And Vin’s skin was as hairless as a newborn kit’s.

Finally the portly magister was able to find an absolutely ancient looking key, and while gesturing carelessly to the attending guards he walked over to the oldest cell in the room and unlocked it. With a grunt of effort, the two guards heaved Vin into the cell, the door slamming shut a bare moment after; though there was no need for such speed, Vin could barely move after his pyrrhic victory in the sands above. With the groaning slam, the door was shut and the guards moved to relax at a pair of chairs and table in the center of the room.

But for Vin, it was all worth it. Tomorrow he would fight Emperor Kota. Curling into a more comfortable fetal position, Vin thought about the long treacherous path that he had traveled to get to this point. Unfortunately his life hadn’t started out much different than many others in the Empire. Orphaned at an early age from the numerous wars that the empire participated in, Vin and his 7 sisters and 4 brothers were taken in by a state-run orphanage. However, this is where his family experienced something that the kits and younglings in the orphanages feared above all else. The attention of Emperor Kota himself.

Sure, it made sense to the adults and citizens of the empire. Emperor Kota was a man of the people, and it was his responsibility to at least present a nominal effort of checking in on those kids whose parents had fallen in the wars of conquest. But whispers in the night, secreted conversations between the children revealed the truth for those whose lives were on the line. Emperor Kota would visit an orphanage presenting coins and food stuffs to the Matrons and would then proceed to interact with those benefiting from his magnanimity. Emperor Kota would always choose an orphan who would then act as a guide; to show them the crafts that the kits were practicing, to provide a tour and demonstration in the combat yard, to sing him a song, and other similar things.

Without fail, those that were given the honor of being a royal guide would ‘run away’ within a few days of Emperor Kota visiting. None were ever found or recovered, or even sent letters back to reassure family members. If pressured, the Matrons would tell the inquirer that the runaway had grown tired of the barebones care being provided to them and simply moved on. But if you asked the bunkmates of the disappeared they would talk of waking dreams where dark figures took away the chosen, entering like wraiths and leaving with nary a sound besides perhaps a muffled scream or two. The enforcers of the Imperial Family, the Emperor’s Hares were an elite force famed for their ability to move silently and endure any condition to achieve the goals of the Empire. Be that taking out an enemy general on the eve of battle, or kidnapping little ones for the pleasure of Kota.

And as though setting a tone for the rest of Vin’s life, his family suffered heavily under these predations. One by one, his sisters and brothers guided Emperor Kota; and one by one his sisters and brothers ‘ran away’. Vin knew that was utter shit. But never him, he was always tall and broad for his age; and he took to the traditional martial training in the exercise yard like a fish to water leading to an even more robust physique and deformed features. Soon the thrill of pitting himself against all comers was his only true escape from his sorry life. Soon that mad chaos within the confines of sand arenas became his only life. After all, his old life had been taken by Kota; so he would forge a new one.

It was the times that Vin wasn’t in the ring that were the hardest; imagining the fates his siblings suffered, envisioning the lives he and his kin could have had if only their parents hadn't died in service of the Emperor. As a reward for a particularly vicious fight, one of the ring owners had gifted Vin a sample of Golden Sun. The euphoria and bliss that followed pushing that amber poison into his calmed his fears and thoughts, making him feel like he was in a comforting pile with all of his family once more. But all too quickly the experience faded, leaving him alone in the world once more. Even with all the Golden Sun he could get his paws on, Vin would never experience that level of comfort and safety. Though not through lack of trying.

Vin’s stumbled through the years, bouncing between combat pits, expensive inns with soft furred escorts, and huddling in alleys shaking for lack of the Sun. Never winning enough to be noticed by the Imperial War Recruiters, never losing so badly that he couldn’t fight the next time his name was called. Vin probably would have found his end soon enough if not for the announcement of the Great High Celebration. A week-long series of competitions, exhibitions, and battles, all to commemorate the most recent victory of the Empire’s forces.

The winner of each category would be awarded with a public audience with the Emperor. In a Golden Sun fueled stupor, Vin signed up for the combat portion of the Celebration. Whether that was with thoughts of all the Golden Sun he could get a hold of by leveraging his status of High Champion, or with fantasies of greeting Kota with his paws around that fat royal throat, even Vin couldn’t say. Regardless of intent, his name was on the list, and Vin didn’t relish being hunted by the Emperor’s Hares for dereliction of public duty. Though declaring his intent to demand single combat with Emperor Kota should he make it to the end probably didn’t win him any favors. It certainly didn’t win him any good accommodations or healing between fights.

All of which led to Vin’s current situation, almost bleeding out and muscles shaking from overuse after barely smashing down a huge brute of a Konjin in his last bout. The sound of a hard baton running back and forth across the bars of the cell woke Vin from his reminiscing, raising his head to stare blankly at the guard. The guard with a bulbous nose sneered at him, and poured the thin gruel that was to be his dinner onto the floor. Vin simply lowered his gaze and dragged himself towards the puddle of slop and began to shove it into his face as Bulbous stared at him. Food was food after all. “You're naught but a beast Vin, and tomorrow you’ll be put down like one. You think you’re so high and mighty after fighting your way here?” He slapped his chest as he continued his lambasting. “You ever go up against a real man like me, you’d be put in the ground where you belong, you stinking amber-vein.” Waiting for a beat with no response forthcoming from Vin besides scraping and munching, Bulbous snorted and walked away towards the tunnel, calling out to the younger guardsman to snuff the torches and meet him at the tavern.

A pair of feet slowly made their way closer to Vin’s vision as he focused on consuming the last bit of gruel from the floor. With exaggerated slowness, the young guard knelt by the door, and reached into a pocket. Expecting some final cruelty, Vin clenched a fist in preparation to knock away whatever was about to be thrown at his face. Instead however, an oh-so familiar vial was gently placed on the ground just inside the cell. Quickly darting a look at the young guard, Vin was almost physically staggered by the look of sadness and regret he found there. With a whispered farewell of “Fight well, and remember the kits” the young guard was gone, leaving Vin alone with a single torch, his thoughts…and the vial of Golden Sun.

Carefully scooping up the vial, Vin scooted towards the back of the cell until he felt his spine hit up against the wall. Head hung low, Vin stared at the bubbling amber liquid, imagining he could see faces within. Faces of his family, of matrons, of the friends and enemies he had made in his life, even of the Emperor floated and disappeared within. Placing the vial to the side, Vin moved to support his bulk on just his knees and fists and took a deep shuddering breath. Gently, as though he was teaching a young Konijn to fight, Vin began to punch the ancient stone beneath him. Slowly now, then faster, then harder, until Vin was wailing with wild abandon at the unfeeling cobbles, red blood flowed down from his knuckles and began to fill the cracks and divots of the floor. Vin bellowed his need to fight, his need for the Golden Sun, his anger at a life wasted; but most of all he screamed “GIVE ME THE STRENGTH. GIVE ME THE STRENGTH TO EXECUTE THAT BASTARD”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

And deep within the ancient foundation of the colosseum, in truth the corner stone upon which the entire edifice was built upon, masonry shifted. Masonry shifted, blood seeped, and a red light pulsed with acknowledgment.