After several days of steady crafting, I step away with a grin at my nearly plete arsenal arrayed on the workben the basement. A dozen pipe bombs separated from their fuses snuggle o a dozen more capped gss bottles of napalm. Throwing daggers lie o a fsk of phenol, ready to be dipped for fast ag lethality. o said daggers is a carefully grooved pipe Zip-rifle missing the easily attached hahe has with seven makeshift bullets of probably only the first four or five shots will have any degree of reliable accuracy.

  Tucked uhe table are assorted, single-use shotguns, mostly sawed-off trial versions of my rifle with smoothed out bores, but with a few , rge bore models for all your ‘fuck off!’ needs… including your joints if you’re not prepared.

  “Well, looks like this will have to do for now.” I say aloud.

  “Quasi, are you here?” I hear Cillian ask.

  I turn towards his voice.

  “Over here, be careful not to trip!” I yell to the Scot.

  I hear him slowly make his way to me. He halts suddenly when he reaches the flickering pool of light illuminating the table.

  “Shite,” he curses, “you’re actually serious? Are those-”

  “-Bombs? Yup.”

  He swallows. “If this all blows, you could take the whole building down.”

  I snort. “No, no, this pce is made from steel and reinforced crete. You’d need a bunker-buster to take down these walls, not just these little toys.”

  I grab a nearby rag and wipe my hands.

  “So, why are you here?” I ask.

  “Um,” he pauses, “I wao remind you that yht is in two hours.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Are you betting on me ainst me?”

  The Scot blushes, “That’s not important. I’m just hopin’ to see you get at the bear,” he pauses, “for reasons.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yoing to lose,” I warn, “but that's fine. Boriss is putting all of his and my passes on me, so I’ll be gd to take yours.”

  He pouts, “Kid, I like ya, I really do, but you ain’t got no ce against Tibbers. Bigger and stronger men have tried and failed.”

  “Boriss won,” I point out.

  “Boriss almost died!” Cillian ters, “the crazy Russian only won cause he got on the bear's bad suffocated it while it violently rolled around until it passed out. He was bedridden for months afterwards. I don’t think yoing to be that lucky. Just hope it doesn't finish you off.”

  I sigh, “You know what? Just make sure you watch my fight.” I lean doick up my rapier. “Then I pity you properly ter.”

  I ast him. I ehe elevator, ride to the main floor, and make my way to the yard.

  “Good luck with yht.”

  “Don't die too badly.”

  Fritz and Frieddrich say as I pass them.

  Wheer the yard, I am met with probably the only person who has fiden me.

  “rade Quasi, is good to see you.”

  The Russian man, scale aing a warhammer on his shoulder grins down at me.

  “Boriss, how long have you been waiting here?”

  He waves his hand, “Is only three hours. Little time. How you? Ready to make bear suka?”

  I grin back at the Russians iious grin, “Sure am. When I’m dohat bear won’t be mung carpet, it will be carpet.”

  “Is fine.” he waves again. “Suka is suka. Dead suka is less headache.”

  “Right,” I start walking towards the pits. “Did you put all the bets on me?”

  “Da,” he matches my pace. “All is on you,” he taps his hammer, “after win, we fight jealous gamblers.”

  “You’re expeg a fight? Really?”

  He nods. “Is normal. Many gamblers are like children. They need good spanking from strong mother.” He practice swings his hammer with familiar ease.

  “Right. I wasn’t pnning oing into a fight after the bear, but it shouldn't be a prob-”

  I stop walking as the air shifts. The lights all turn off at ond smothers everything in darkness. Then, after a moment, a quarter of them turn ba.

  “Shit,” I curse as I feel a pressure desd on my soul.

  gratutions denizens of Downside! Your city has been magnanimously selected as a testing ground for the God Games.

  For this test, yoal is to escape the city while fending off the Fenriromorphs! Don’t let their soft, fuzzy, beguiling tenances fool you, these cute pups put the `invasive` in `invasive species`.

  The test begins now. Good Luck, and God Speed!

  The moment I finish reading, the message disappears and I hear growling in the distahen I hear screaming.

  Chaos explodes all around us. Prisoners ruer-skelter. Some arm themselves, some try and hide, more than a few rush the exits.

  “rade Quasi,” I hear Boriss say my name. I look at him, and then follow his finger. In the distance, seveall and bristling with muscle, stands a brown furred, bipedal wolf with a spiked tail, six eyes, and two twelve-inch horns pointing sky- or rather- ceiling-wards.

  “Well, I’m guessing that's a Fenriromorph.” I say aloud.

  The Fenrirnces around, its six dark eyes study the armed and risoners staring back at it. They point their ons at the monster and the monster bares its fangs.

  Then, all at ohe thing pounces with ued speed. It grabs hold of a guy, and bites into his armored shoulder as though it was te veal. The man screams as the beast rends flesh aal from his body.

  “Pity,” I deadpan, “it would have held the room together.”

  The prisoners he monster sh out with their ons. Spears, swords, and all manner of armaments stab, ssh and pound the beast. Green blood leaks slowly from the monster's wounds. The Fenriromorph roars in rage, and shes out with its cws. The prisoners are knocked away with surprising ease. Still angry, the Fenriromorph chooses its arget and rips into him. More prisoners join the fray and ssh at the Fenririmorph.

  “Fuck,” I curse, “This isn’t good.”

  “Da,” Boriss nods, “Angry dog. They should give s on head.”

  “What? No. It’s their weird green blood. If you notice the wounds, other than the initial blood splurt, the bleeding stops. These Fenriromorph 't actually bleed out.”

  I watch a prisoner sm a mato the Fenriromorphs’ side. The moaggers, but shows no sign of injury. The thick, corded muscle of the monster seems resistant to blunt force trauma.

  But for all its formidable power, the monster is only a savage beast. The prisoners keep their distand encircle the Fenriromorph. They bide their time and attack it from the back, slowly piling up more and more damage till the beast’s limbs o longer move. Then, with a loud, final hurrah, they crush its face with a warhammer.

  With the Fenriromorph defeated, the prisoners cheer loudly at their success.

  “Fuck. This is bad.” I say aloud.

  “Da,” Boriss nods, “Fight take too long. They ab brain.”

  “No- well, yes. They should have focused on oints. But the problem is that it was too easy.”

  Boriss raises an eyebrow in my dire, but I iurn towards distant sounds and the dire where prisoners are running from.

  “e on, Boriss, we’re going to go get guns. Lots of guns.”

  The Russian opens his mouth, only to pause when a dozen Fenriromorph arrive aheir brethren’s corpse.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  “Move, NOW!” I yell and turn. I sprint full speed towards the entrao the Gold District, Boriss follht behind.

  At the entrahe old guards are now fresh corpses. Their bodies are mangled and ripped apart, their kevr armor is shredded and their shock batons lie brokeo their remains.

  Damn. I kinda liked those two.

  “Eyes and ears ready,” I tell Boriss.

  “Da,” he agrees, “like Russian dog.”

  Entering the hallway that leads to the gold district, I find bloodprints matg the footprints of the Fenriromorphs’ digitigrade legs.

  We tihrough the hallways with caution. Corpses lihe walls and body parts are strewn everywhere. Cautiously, we make our way to the Gasthaus building.

  To my surprise, no Fenriromorphs block our path, but the corpses mutely attest to their ret passage..

  “Too silent,” Borris whispers.

  “Agreed.”

  We tinue past several side passages and arrive at the Gasthaus building.

  Slowly, we open the door aer inside.

  The st of blood permeates the reception area, and the squelg sound of blood a es from behind the desk. The receptionist is dead, and a Fenririmorph hovers over his body and bites into his corpse.

  The Fenriromorph’s ears flicker. It stops eating and lifts its head. The head turns in our dire.