Number Seventeen pulled her scarf off her suffocated opponent's neck. The cloth slid off effortlessly, making practically unbelievable that the wolfkin would be unable to free himself, if not for a fact that he was in fact dead, with an exposed stiffy saluting the crowds.
"Number Seventeen wins," Bob said with zero fanfare and put his hand into the barrel with the balls, pulling for the next participant.
Number Seventeen tied the scarf around her neck and looked around awkwardly until Bob waved for her to go away. Bob then opened the next wooden ball and lifted up the light-blue piece of paper with a bright red 'Forty' written on it in numbers.
The pale girl with 'Forty' on her black armband did not even look at Bob who called her out by her number, nor did she see her number on the giant displaying sphere above the arena. She sat on her knees, despondent, caressing her uncle's head.
"Oh, that's the niece-fucker's niece!" someone in the crowds shouted, pointing at the number displayed on the giant sphere.
"Not much of a toy if he never got it up for her!" another added.
"He just didn't satisfy her properly!"
"How the fuck? Was he impotent or something?"
"Maybe if she lives through this, I'll give her what her uncle couldn't!"
The distant jeers and laughs from the spectators finally broke the pale girl from her trance. She looked up, finally realized that she was picked next for the fights and her distraught expression turned to rage. Number Forty jumped to her feet and rushed to Bob who was already talking with several of his burly buddies and pointing at her.
Number Forty slammed her fist against Bob's table, pointed at the mysterious masked girl, and shouted, "I WANT HER!"
The mysterious robed girl simply snickered.
"Haha! She has a death wish!" some spectators laughed.
"Fuck yeah! I wanna see that!" others cheered with renewed interest.
"She was the first to win in the previous round!" someone pointed out.
"You think she can stand up to that bloodthirsty psycho? That masked lady toyed with the old man."
"After he pounded her into the ground!"
"And did no damage!"
"How do you know that?"
"Either way it would beat watching some dumbass get asphyxiated with his pants down!"
Bob lifted up the small wooden container, holding it right in Number Forty's face, and said, "Pull! … Maybe you'll get lucky."
All the wooden balls look indistinguishable from one another. The girl could not tell which balls were the 'special' ones with the white piece of paper. Her crimson eyes burned with the fury of hell itself as she looked at her uncle's murderer, though it was probably just the light of the pillar flames reflected in her eyes.
With grit teeth and her face distorted in rage, Number Forty plunged her hand into the container with the wooden balls—
"WAIT!!" a thunderous, but familiar voice thundered through the mines and reverberated over and over, forcing the mines into momentary silence.
Everyone looked up to the announcer's platform where a pint-sized, so-called adult of a fluffy white hairball with large ears stood in her usual position, overlooking the arena. Her face was still covered by her black mask with blue flames painted across it.
Behind the announcer, in the shadows of the deepening cave, a bright flame lit up and disappeared. A few seconds later a flaming tornado appeared behind Bob. The flames dissipated as fast as they grew, revealing John and Carl inside them, completely unharmed. John, the skeletal, thin masked staff immediately walked to Bob and dismissed him from his duties, resuming the post himself.
The hairball raised her arms—revealing that she did have human skin and hands, and it was just the hair on her head that had been grown beyond any and all reasonable proportions—and declared, "A proposition!
"If Number Forty wants to break the rules and fight miss Ruby that badly, she has to first prove that she is worthy! Number Forty, if you last to the end and win tonight's games, follow the rules, and kill all your competition, miss Ruby will honor your request for a fight! Against her will if necessary… Or you can take your chances with the draw but miss Ruby will not be participating after this round!"
Ruby crossed her arms as she looked at 'Thelicia' but did not comment.
"Any objections?" the announcer asked.
"No," Number Forty hissed.
The announcer read the girl's lips and smiled.
However, the crowds were far less pleased, booing the delay to a match they hyped themselves up for, but the announcer raised her hand again.
"Of course, that is too much of a delay, isn't it? Our dear fans have spoken! Let's speed it up! All remaining participants! Those who want to fight Number Forty right now, step up and pick any weapon of your choice!"
The remaining participants looked at each other in confusion.
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