Men and Monsters: Metempsychosis.

Pinkamena lays in her bed, lost in thought. She had been resting this entire time, trying to comprehend everything that's happened and will happen. But, almost immediately after Discord left, she became extremely famished. She hesitantly asked the guards for food, preferably meat. And for the next three hours, she did nothing but eat. Meat, vegetables, fruit. Anything they gave her, she ate it. Not even when she was dealing with growth spurts did she eat that much. Maybe it was the coma? Or perhaps the transition took that much of a toll on her body?

Pinkamena moved her hand in front of her face. Like everything else, it looked vastly different. It was like Discord said; she had heightened senses. Her sight had been altered; It used to be she could see better out of her right eye, and her left was borderline lazy. But now, she could see equally out of both eyes, even better than before. Pinkamena could see stuff further away, and the closer things were, the more details she noticed. She could see all the differences in her skin, even vaguely being able to see the veins inside of her.

Her hearing improved as well, allowing her to hear every noise in her room, even the heartbeat and breathing of the guards right outside the door. She could smell and taste better, too. When the guards brought her food, before it even got to the hallway, she could smell it. Everything tasted different, too; the taste and texture of the food were in more detail than she ever noticed before. Her teeth were very different too, being more prominent and sharper, causing her to bite the inside of her cheeks and lip multiple times, causing wounds and drawing blood. She quickly adjusted her chewing, and they healed, so it wasn't a problem for long.

She was more sensitive also, whether that be because of the transition or the drug was anyone’s guess. Everything felt different, the warmness of the covers, the hardness of the floor. It was like she was in a foreign body, with the memories of who she was. If she had been like this in the woods, things might have been very different.

Suddenly, there was a violent rapping on the door, making Pinkamena sit up.

"Hey, better be ready! Your test will be starting soon."

The room had been deathly quiet for so long, the sudden loud noise nearly startled her. Pinkamena hadn’t had time to think ever since she got out of the woods, and now that she does, she was exceptionally on edge.

She sighed, realizing there was nothing else she could do. There wasn't any time left to prepare and think. All that was left was the test. She hopped off the bed, begrudgingly walking towards the door without making a sound. She suddenly opened it, startling the guards this time, an impatient look on her face.

"Well? Let’s go already,” she demanded. Usually, any outsider that treated members of The Syndicate like that would be beaten unconscious. But this was an exception. They had specific instructions, and if they weren't followed detail by detail, they'd never find the bodies.

Igneous never took well to mistakes.

"It’s just down the hallway. Oh, and don't bother trying to escape,” the other guard said bluntly, lacking any tone or emotion in their voice. “There’s no way out. Just the room you were in and the one you’re heading to."

They looked identical to the guards around Igneous, the exception being the one on the left had darker brown hair. She didn't say anything, only nodded. They turned their backs to her and walked down the long, dark hallway leading her to the end.

Pinkamena felt fearless, like there was no weight on her. She only felt acceptance as she realized this was what everything was building up to. This was the big finale. The woods, the torture, the experiments, those were all prepping her for a battle royale, and she was as ready as she’d ever be.

They led her to the end of the hallway, a steel door waiting for her. Not a new one, either. It looked old and beaten down, stains covering it up and down. Some rust, some blood, the rest were indistinguishable. It was the kind of door she’d see in a torture dungeon, covered in the blood of the multiple people who have suffered on the other side.

Any normal human would have been afraid, terrified, even. The sight of blood and everything that's happened should have shaken her to her core. But no, Pinkamena wasn't scared. She was both excited and afraid. She could barely hold back a smile, and it was hard for her to say why.

One guard opened the door, gesturing for her to go through. The other side was dark, but she didn't hesitate. She walked through the door, allowing herself to be swallowed in darkness.

Silence hung in the air for the longest time before, suddenly, a loud clicking noise and a bright flash of light, making Pinkamena flinch and close her eyes. She slowly opened them, revealing the room in front of her. The first thing she could compare it to was a gladiator ring, but bigger. Somehow, this was more modern, like it was made just for this era.

It was huge, undoubtedly the largest room Pinkamena's ever seen. The walls were a dark brown, scratches of silver spread out on the walls. The floor and concrete were made of concrete, making gray, brown, and silver the only colors of the room. Well, except for the bloodstains, most varying in old and new ones. Dents were on the walls, bone fragments and skin pieces could be seen on the floor; this wasn't just a gladiator pit. This was a graveyard.

She looked around more, noticing the emptiness. The room was the same, except for one thing; a bunker. Sort of, it had the structure of one, but if she had to guess, it was used to see the bloodshed inside. The size was ridiculous, going from one side of the wall to the other. It was made of dark metal, almost black. But, compared to the rest of the room, it was new. There were no bloodstains or dents, nothing showing its age.

The light source for the room was spotlights on top of the bunker. They were massive, easily two or three feet bigger than herself. It was impossible to tell the color or details. The light they were emitting made it challenging to focus on them. Several of them spread on top of it, providing most of the morning for the room. But Pinkamena noticed spotlights on the roof, giving light to areas that usually couldn't be lit.

The most noticeable thing about the bunker, other than its cleanness, was the window. It was gigantic, stretching across both sides of it, practically confirming Pinkamena's assumption of it being an observation room. Unfortunately, it was tinted, making it impossible to see if anyone was inside.

But she knew he was. Pinkamena could feel those eyes piercing through her soul. Igneous was on the other side of that glass, watching her, eager to see what she’d do. Blake and Discord probably were as well, but she couldn't feel their stares. Either because they weren't, or their gaze just wasn’t as strong.

She was considering going up to the glass and trying to look through it, but she didn't have to. A sudden disembodied voice spoke into the room,

"Hello, Pinkamena."

It was loud and echoed from an intercom somewhere. Most likely behind one of the spotlights, or maybe it was hidden elsewhere, it didn't matter. The intercom didn't matter. No, the voice that was coming out of it did. That familiar deep, monotonous tone. That was Igneous' voice. He was so close and yet so far.

"You’re looking a lot different from when last I saw you in the woods,” his voice said tauntingly. “Yeah, you’re far from being that broken teen racked with guilt over her poor, weak, dead sisters."

Pinkamena ground her teeth, clenching her fist as her nails dug into her hand, drawing blood. She could feel her blood boiling like she could explode with rage at any second.

"Quite the intense stare, daughter. Good. Let that hatred burn into strength. You’re going to need it for all the big battles up ahead."

Suddenly, a new sound entered the room. The sound of something mechanical. It came from above her; she looked up with a curious glare. Something was lowering from the roof. From where she could see, it appeared to be a small, wooden platform, almost a table without the legs. It had chains attached to both sides of it, which led back up to the roof. Pinkamena walked toward where it was lowering too, curious what its purpose was.

"Tonight, you will face many enemies. Each of them with advantages over you. These mercenaries have honed their instincts to become natural-born killers through battle experience, various skills, or techniques. And unlike you, they kill with motivation. Whoever succeeds in killing you will be rewarded a million dollars by proof of your heart in their hands."

He carried a sadistic tone now, similar to Blake's. It was like he wasn't taking it seriously, trying to provoke her. Pinkamena had made it to the spot the platform was going to be. She stood there patiently, waiting for it to arrive.

"Now, I know this must all seem unfair. You've hardly killed more than feral mutts. But don’t worry, daughter. You’ll be given something to even the odds a little. A weapon of your choosing."

As if on cue, it stopped above the floor. Right under Pinkamena's stomach, hovering above the ground. She looked down at it, revealing everything on top, making her eyes widen. First, to the left was a machete. It looked brand new; the handle looked clean and polished, while the edges looked sharp, like just touching them would leave a deep cut. In the middle was a small, black pistol, similar to the ones the guards had. There was nothing special about it, no attachments or markings, nothing that made it unique. It was just a tiny, black pistol.

To the right, there were, technically, two things. A small pair of brass knuckles, something Pinkamena never expected to see outside of TV. Like the pistol, there was nothing special about it. Most would have indentions or something on them, but no, this one was completely blank. The one thing all three had in common was how new they all seemed, to where there was nothing on them. They were all in mint condition, waiting to taste blood. Only special because they weren’t.

"Each of these weapons should be more than enough to assist you during the test. The machete has been cleaned and sharpened, able to decapitate someone in a single swing. The pistol has been taken apart and thoroughly cleaned, but, counting the one in the chamber, is limited to ten bullets. Of course, your opponents won’t know that, so the option for mind games is also available. Then again, you’ll be up against a few marksmen, so that might not be so helpful. Unless you're desperate enough to club them with it instead.”

“The last weapon in your arsenal is straightforward; brass knuckles. Put them on your fist and beat your opponents until they stop moving. Pretty messy, blood and teeth will be splattered everywhere, but oh so satisfying. Keep in mind that you’ll only be selecting one weapon. This wouldn’t be a challenge if you could simply take them all. Once you’ve made your selection, the test will begin immediately. But take too long to decide, and you can start the trail with no weapons. So I suggest you choose wisely, daughter. You have sixty seconds."

Pinkamena felt her rage boil, his taunting voice making her want to scream back at him. But she couldn't. It wouldn't do anything, and she apparently couldn’t waste a minute. She glanced down at the weapons in front of her, sweat beading down her face. She had to think about this carefully. Whatever she chooses could also decide her fate here.

Any of these weapons could help her. But, at the same time, they could cripple her chances of survival. The machete was durable and could easily cut through flesh and bone, but it took a lot of energy to swing it hard enough. At the same time, it could quickly get stuck in her enemies, which would leave her vulnerable. The pistol is the easiest one, each bullet capable of killing. But after those bullets run out, it becomes useless. Even without that, Pinkamena has never shot a gun before, so it's more than likely she'll miss some shots.

The brass knuckles weigh almost nothing and take little energy to use, meaning she can attack quickly. But brass knuckles are made for long, drawn-out fights, not to kill soon. Maybe in a one-on-one, it could work, but she had no idea how many she'd be fighting. Pinkamena was sweating, realizing no matter what she chose, she'd be taking a massive risk. She examined each item, trying desperately to think of some way to cancel out the con.

Her eyes darted between the three weapons, trying her hardest to think of something. The gears in her head were turning desperately as she felt each second slip by.

"Come on, come on! There has to be something I'm not thinking of, something I can use!"

Pinkamena mumbled to herself desperately, her eyes darting all over the platform. Pinkamena was sweating profusely as she examined every detail of the forum. She could feel their eyes on her, watching eagerly as she struggled. She was paying attention to everything, hoping there was some detail she missed, something between the cracks. The wood, the weapons, the craftsmanship, the chains, the m-

"Wait… Yes!"

Pinkamena suddenly exclaimed, grabbing the machete impulsively, like an inventor who just came up with a brilliant idea. Then, suddenly, there was a loud clicking noise. The moment she made her choice, little black claws came out under the weapons, clutching themselves around them.

"That's fine,” Pinkamena said almost smugly. “All I need is this machete."

Pinkamena said casually, determined to keep composure. She carefully touched the edges, testing its sharpness. It cut the tip of her finger, drawing crimson. It was sharper than she expected. She smiled.

"Good! Now, for the moment of truth." She mumbled to herself as her grip tightened on the machete. She pivoted around, hitting the chains to the right of the platform. And just as Pinkamena had hoped, it cut through cleanly. The sound of the platform hitting the ground rang through the room. The right side of the platform fell to the floor, the chains no longer supporting it. There was a loud clanking sound as the chains dropped on top of the platform. The rest hung from the ceiling. Pinkamena tossed the machete to the side, landing it a few feet away. She no longer needed it.

Pinkamena walked up to the platform, grasping the chain with both her hands. They were attached to a small ring embedded in the platform, but she was about to fix that. She pulled on the chain, ripping it from the platform, the ring still attached to the end. Her smile widened, having found her perfect weapon. Not only was it extremely light, making it to where she needed little energy to swing it, but it had multiple ways to use it! She could use it to pull enemies closer, wrap around their neck and kill them. Or whip them with it like slaves, or wrap it around herself for protection. There were dozens of ways she could use this!

Pinkamena wrapped the chains around her hands a few times, making her grip on them stronger. She wore her sadistic smile, swinging the chains in a circle to her left. She was ready!

“Ooh! How unexpected,” Igneous voice spoke up again, chuckling lightly. “No one’s ever thought to utilize the chains in such a way before. I must admit, daughter. I admire your ability to be innovative. But will that help you in the long run? As you’ve proven, those chains aren’t exactly sturdy. Sure, it might work against the first three or four enemies, but for the entire trial? I guess we'll have to see, won’t we?"

The smile left her face, and her eyebrows furrowed as her grip on the chains tightened. She felt her body tense up. The bastard could hide there and spew his shit all he liked. In the end, it would be his heart in her hands. Pinkamena would kill him, no matter how many people stood in her way. Or die trying.

Suddenly, another loud noise filled the room. It sounded like a drawbridge opening, but smaller. Then, directly across from Pinkamena, the walls began to open up. It started to split in the middle, one side going left while the other went right. It was too dark for her to see into, but it was probably a secret room meant to hold people. This was where the thugs being paid to kill her were.

The walls stopped moving, showing just how large the room was. Pinkamena peered into the darkness, looking for anything. As if on cue, three human figures started stepping out of the evening. It wasn't long before they noticed Pinkamena.

"Really? You’re what’s worth the big bounty?! I was expecting some big-shot criminal, not some frail, teenage girl!"

The one on the left exclaimed, a sarcastic and surprised tone in his voice. His voice had a weird pitch, somewhere between a pubescent teen and a forty-year-old woman, making him very annoying to hear talk. He was somewhat short, looking to be around five-six for his height, and had no muscle to be seen. He had curly brown hair. It poked out in multiple directions, meaning he didn't care for personal hygiene. He had no facial hair. Nothing on his face seemed to stick out. His eyes were a dark brown; the pupils were very constricted, he probably took something before coming in. Strangely, he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, as if this was something casual for him.

"Pft! Not like your little punk ass would've been able to kill them. You should be happy; this’ll be the easiest million you've ever made."

The one on the right said in a more obnoxious tone, evidently bigger than the other, probably five-eleven in height, with noticeable muscles. His hair was long and blonde; it looked like it spent hours being groomed, which perhaps happens daily. Piercing blue eyes and no facial hair were the features that poked out the most. Like a certain someone Pinkamena despised, he was wearing a black leather jacket with a white shirt underneath, a long pair of black jeans to go with it. His voice was normal, lacking the heavy British accent that made him appear like a carbon copy of Blake.

"Yeesh! You two act like this is some dick-measuring contest. And spoiler alert; I win! But who gives a shit if it's a cocky asshole or some chick. We're getting paid to kill'em. That’s all that matters.”

The guy in the middle barked. His voice boomed over the others. He was massive, at least six-five. His arms didn't look normal at all; they looked like giant tree trunks! He wore a small, sleeveless black shirt, revealing his massive body size. His jet black hair combed back, the rest of his face was completely open, something she intended to use later. The behemoth of a man had a broad, obnoxious smile on his face, which irritated her to no end. He was wearing long, black boots and black gloves to match. All of them reminded her of Blake in some way. It was likely Igneous chose them to try to provoke her. And to her annoyance, it was working.

Pinkamena wore an angry grin. The immense hatred subsided any other emotion burning in her heart, and she couldn't help but smile. She tightened her hands around the chains, her eyes constricted. She was starting to forget why she was afraid to kill in the first place.

"Well, come on, then! You boys don't want to keep a girl waiting, do you?"

Pinkamena proclaimed sarcastically, taunting them into attacking first. And just like that, she could see anger forming on their faces; they didn't like that.

"Damn. Most girls in this situation just try to run. But you’re standing there, a big smile on your face, swinging that chain like a jump rope. I can tell you’re going to be fun! Go on, boys, get her! I wanna see what else she’s got before I get in on that action~."

The one in the middle commanded, acting as the top dog, which seemed to fit. With no hesitation, both rushed towards Pinkamena. One went on the left, the other on the right, while the one in the middle just watched her, like a predator to prey. Pinkamena remained dauntless, her smile widening.

The one on the left suddenly lunged at her, his hands outstretched in front of him. She expected that. While he was still in the air, she threw the chain towards him, intending to wrap it around his neck. However, the chain was more brutal to throw than she expected, so she didn't throw it as hard or as high. The only experience she had with this was throwing a handmade rope around animals back in the woods, so she was prone to messing up. But she still wrapped it around his right hand, making it just barely a success. After the chains tightly wrapped around his hand, Pinkamena violently pulled down on them with both of hers.. With an expression that went from surprised to fear just as quickly, he slammed face-first into the ground below him, right in front of Pinkamena.

"Forgetting someone, sweet tits?!"

The other one was faster than she expected. He was now only a few feet to her left. He swung at her, not even acknowledging the other guy on the ground. She was barely able to move out of the way in time, having to let go of the chain to do it fast enough. She cursed herself for only focusing on one of them. Pinkamena smiled. During her time with Blake, he burned into her some facts about human anatomy, things she'll never be able to forget. A few were meant just for torture, but most were intended for combat, whether he told her to use it that way or not.

Pinkamena ducked under his arm, punching him on the right side of his body, causing him to clutch his side and cough up blood.

"Oh, not at all,” Pinkamena responded like the cute sadist she was. “That was your liver, by the way. If hit hard enough, it can cause rupture and internal bleeding. And while you're busy choking on your blood, I’ll be moving on."

Using her other hand to uppercut him under the chin, Pinkamena struck hard enough to send him flying across the stadium, tumbling onto his back. He laid unconscious, blood pouring out from his mouth into a small pool.

"Phew! Well, that went better than I expected, considering I was mostly improvising. Now, what about tha-”

Suddenly, a hand from behind grabbed Pinkamena's ankle and pulled her down, causing her to fall forward on the ground. Luckily, she was able to catch herself by putting forward her hands, leaving her unharmed. But before she could look at whatever pulled her down, she felt a hand pull her head up by her hair and slam her into the ground. She groaned in anguish, pain searing throughout her face, already knowing it was going to bruise. She heard the drips as the blood came out of her nose. Her vision blurred after being stricken. She turned her head to the left, the hand on her hair not stopping her.

"STUPID BITCH! DID YOU THINK THAT JUST BECAUSE YOU KNOCKED OUT THAT DIPSHIT, THAT'D YOU WON!?"

The ugly one she thought was incapacitated yelled at her, face bulging with anger. A bruise on his forehead showed she had hurt him, just not enough to knock him out as she wanted. Instead, he was crouching over her, one hand holding her hair, the other clenched in anger. His head was bent down to the left side of her face, screaming into her ear. She could feel the spit flying out of his mouth, hitting her face.

"What, got nothing to say now that I've got you in my hands?"

Pinkamena mumbled something, but it was too quiet for him to hear.

"Hey, speak up! I want to hear your last words!!"

He leaned in closer, his ear moving towards her mouth. When he was close enough, she suddenly lunged forward, latching her mouth around his ear. She sank her teeth in and ripped off a chunk; blood poured from what remained. He screamed, releasing her hair, letting her head fall to the ground. He clutched his ear, blood seeping through the cracks in his hands. Pinkamena spits out the flesh on the floor, taking this opportunity to pounce on him. She slammed his head against the ground, knocking him out cold.

She played on top of him, sitting on his chest. His arms were spread out on both sides, his left hand covered in blood from putting his over what remained of his ear, which was still gushing out blood. With no hesitation, Pinkamena put one hand under his chin and the other on the back of his head, getting a tight grip on both. She quickly twisted the head at an angle, pushing it farther back than the neck could go, snapping his neck, killing him instantly.

That was how she killed animals, either when they hadn't noticed her or when they were suffering. That was different, though; this wasn't to prevent the unnecessary suffering of animals. She just snapped the neck of a human being and took his life. But somehow, it didn't seem to matter. She knew she should feel something, regret, rage, satisfaction, something. But nothing really best described how she felt outside of astonishment. Whatever the case, it didn’t matter.

She wasn't even close to done.

Pinkamena walked over to the other unconscious guy on the floor; she crouched down, put her hands on the back of his head and under his chin, and snapped his neck like the other. The sound of clapping filled the room. Pinkamena stood up and looked toward the source. She had blood coming out of her nose, blood on her mouth, and no emotion on her face, and this was just getting started.

"Congratulations! You managed to kill two complete nimrods! I hope you're proud of that because now, you're going up against me!"

The guy in the middle was the source of the clapping; he had a massive smile on his face as if he had just watched his son win a baseball game. He walked toward her, his body tensing up, an ear to ear grin on his face.

"Aww, what's wrong? Don’t tell me getting a little beat up made you lose your nerve? That would be disappointing since I was looking forward to a fight."

He spoke in a taunting manner, wanting to provoke her into attacking first. He gestured to her with his right hand, almost teasing her. Pinkamena stood her ground, slouching down like a predator about to pounce on her prey. He moved closer to her; the smile widening. Pinkamena lowered herself down more; she was now on all fours. She could feel it; her instincts were coming back, the feeling she hadn’t felt since the woods.

In those woods, she had to give in to her primal instincts. She had to forget everything she thought about surviving; she had to forget herself in the jungle. There were no morals, no conscience, no choosing what animals got to live or die, nothing left of the person society created. There was only one rule in the wild: Adapt, or die. So, with the sole motivation of killing her father, she changed. She learned how to be a predator; she realized when to be the prey, but most importantly, she learned how to fight and hunt.

“What the fuck is this?!” the man scoffed. “What are you, some kind of cat or something?”

Pinkamena was on all fours, similar to how a tiger would be when they're about to pounce. She was showing her teeth, growling at him like a feral dog. She was digging her nails into the ground; her body was tense, she was giving in to what the woods burned into her.

He stopped moving, standing maybe two feet in front of her, his hands at his sides. He was looking down at her curiously, but at the same time, joy.

"Heh! Somehow, you’re even cuter like this,” he chuckled. “Kinda reminds me of when I had a sick dog once! And you know what happens to sick dogs?"

He took a slow step forward, knowing she would pounce. And like a snake lunging towards a mouse, Pinkamena jumped up off the ground, using her arms and legs as springs. She was off the floor now, getting close to him. But, faster than she thought he could, he quickly raised his leg up and kicked her. It caused her to bite down hard. She even had one of her teeth come loose. The kick hit her under her jaw, causing her to flip back on land on the floor, hard.

"They get put down!"

He slammed into her chest, pushing his foot hard down onto her. The pain was agonizing. It felt like getting hit by a truck. She could feel her ribs cracking, but she held back her screams. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

"Come on, babe! Cry for me! Let me hear those sweet sounds~!”

He pushed down his foot harder onto her chest; he could hear her ribs breaking, cracking underneath his boot. His smile grew. She could see the delight in his eyes. She put both her hands on his ankle, using all her strength to push his foot off her. But he wouldn’t relent or budge.

"You know," He began before lifting his foot off her, kicking her hands away as he did so. He then grabbed both her hands with one of his, pinning them above her as he leaned down at her, leering at her with malicious intent.

"Money sounds nice and all, but after seeing a hot girl try pitifully to fight for her life? I feel like I deserve a special bonus. So, before I kill you and get a shitton of cash, I think I’ll have a little fun first~."

He spoke huskily as he moved his hand under her shirt, grasping her breast roughly. She could feel his erect cock through his pants, rubbing against her leg. He leaned closer to her, licking her neck with his tongue. Pinkamena wriggled with disgust, but she couldn't stop him. Pinkamena was weak, and he had her pinned. There wasn’t a chance to catch her breath. She tried moving away, but all she could do was move her face. Then, suddenly, he aggressively flipped her over, keeping her hands pinned behind her back, tightening his grip.

She could hear his hand fumbling with his zipper and hear his erratic breathing on her neck. Her eyes widened at the sound of his pants unzipping. Something hard and warm flopped onto her stomach. With his free hand busy unbuttoning her pants, his hold on her hands was less strict. She might be able to break loose.

Pinkamena couldn’t help but shudder as he pulled her pants down enough to expose her pantie-clad tush, feeling him rub his engrossed erection between the curve of her cheeks.

“Damn. For a girl your age, you’ve got such a nice ass!” he complimented cruelly, rubbing her right cheek before giving it a smack. “I bet you’ll be nice and tight for me, won’t you~?”

Before he could tug down her underwear, Pinkamena loosened his grip and slip her hand free and elbow him in the gut. Then, taking his momentary distraction, she used them to push her body upward, head-butting him and causing him to stagger. He stumbled to his feet, flaccid penis hanging out of his pants. She turned around, laying on her back. She put her hands on the ground; and pulled back her legs. Then, like a spring, she sprang forward, almost jumping off the ground. Both her legs rammed into his chest, knocking him onto his back. She was barely able to land on her feet; her chest was still in immense pain.

But she couldn't hesitate. Pinkamena had to take this moment! She ran over to the chain on the ground, trying her hardest to ignore how much her chest burned. She turned around, dragging the chain behind her as she began to walk toward him. Somehow, the pain seemed to be dulling, faster than it should. She's never had her ribs fractured before, but there's no way the pain could just start to go away like that. She could almost feel her ribs mending inside of her like the injury wasn't that serious. Not just that, but she could feel herself getting stronger, like she was slowly gaining her stamina back. Now that she wasn't in battle, even if it was just for a few seconds, her energy was slowly coming back to her, faster than usual. Her primal instincts kicked in, causing her smile to return.

"We're not even at round two yet, and you’re already knocked out! You don't want to leave a woman dissatisfied, do you?"

Pinkamena purred sarcastically, knowing full well he was conscious. She stopped moving towards him, standing a few feet away with her chains behind her, that signature smile on her face. He got up, wiping the blood on his face. He let out an elated chuckle while tucking his cock back into his pants, zipping them up.

"Wow, you’re more feisty than I imagined! But don't worry, babe. I ain’t no one pump chump. I’ll have you begging for more once we’re finished~!"

There was no anger in his eyes nor lust to have her body. Just a look of pure excitement. This fight was going to be much different, she could tell. They circled each other, Pinkamena swinging her chains again, and he held his hands at his sides, his fist clenched. This was now a battle of two predators, determined to make the other their prey.

They circled each other for minutes, waiting for the other to make the first move. But this time, there were no words or gestures, no attempts to provoke the other. There was just patience, waiting for others to make the first move. This time, it was he who attacked first. He sprinted forward, ramming straight into her. She tossed her chain towards him using one hand; the other held on to the string to keep it straight. He crowed as he dodged it with ease, dashing to the left.

"You already used that trick already! C’mon, you’ve gotta have something else up your sleeve!"

He mocked, gaining his balance back as he continued to run towards her, now only two feet away from her. But Pinkamena wasn't afraid; she said nothing. Instead, she only smiled as she pulled on the chains roughly with both of her hands.

"I've got you now, girl!"

He reached forward, so close to tackling Pinkamena. But when Pinkamena pulled on the chains, it caused them to come back towards her violently, wrapping around his neck from the back, knocking him to the ground. He rose up, on his knees in front of her, clawing at the chains that prevented him from being able to breathe. He couldn't say anything; Pinkamena was tightening the chains. He couldn't breathe properly, so much as speak. Pinkamena giggled sadistically, knowing she had already won. She walked in front of him, enjoying the look of desperation in his eyes.

"I hear people have a fetish for being choked," Pinkamena commented sardonically, smiling as he struggled for his life. “Are you one of those perverts who like holding onto their last breath? Let’s give that a whirl~!”

She stuck her tongue out in a sultry manner, licking the blood off his nose. It tasted different, almost...good. It was strange. She vaguely noticed it when she bit off that guy's ear, but this was different. She was ingesting the blood directly, and it was almost intoxicating. It tasted like a mixture of vanilla and pure sugar, something she was somewhat familiar with before. But there was something else to it, something she couldn't explain, something that made her want more. Maybe it was because the transformation she went through changed the rest of her body. It would explain why the food tasted so different, so much better. Is this how human blood always tasted? Or was there more to this? That was something she was going to explore later after she got out of this shithole. But now, she had someone to deal with, waiting for her.

Pinkamena stood up straight, looking down at him. She could see his face slowly turning blue. She went behind him eagerly, gripping the chains tightly.

"Oh! Here, let me help you with that!"

Pinkamena kicked him down as she pulled on the chains, making it squeeze his neck tighter. He struggled desperately, clawing at the chains around his neck, his face now turning a dark shade of purple. Pinkamena pushed him harder against the ground, pulling the chains as tight as she could. Her eyes were widening in excitement as her smile widened slowly. Soon enough, his struggling stopped. He no longer moved at all. He was dead.

"...Hey...I did it...woo!"

Pinkamena panted, feeling fatigued. She was injured, even if it was healing at a steady pace. She loosened the chains from her victim’s neck. Slowly, she tried to catch her breath, knowing it wouldn’t be long before the others showed up. She sat on the ground, chains in her lap, her hands on the basis, her head tossed back as her eyes closed.

"Exhausted already?” Igneous’s voice rang through the room, putting Pinkamena back on alert. “We haven’t even started yet, daughter. There are still so many fresh faces that are dying to meet you!”

She snapped forward, standing up with chains in her hands. She wasn't sure if she fell asleep, or they were just that quiet. But there they stood in front of her, the twenty-seven others being paid to kill her. They were all of different shapes and sizes. Some looked intimidating, and others seemed almost pathetic. Most looked like mercenaries, but some looked like soldiers who had just come back from war. Pinkamena gulped, a little frightened by this. She knew there would be a lot of opponents, but seeing so many experts and veterans at once? It was demoralizing; it made things hopeless.

"What's wrong, little girl? Already wetting your pants?!"

One of them said mockingly, causing a few of them to chuckle. That got rid of Pinkamena's fear, replacing it with a familiar rage. She couldn't lose hope, not now. She knew the odds when she walked in here. Seeing them will not make her change her mind! With blood on her face, a sign of newfound courage. Then, quickly within her hands, Pinkamena rushed towards the group of mercenaries, prepared to fight until the end.