Well then it’s a good thing I hate sports *slams button*
The year is 2027. It is Super Bowl season. The football players that have been selected for this year’s culling huddle in a sad, discontented mass in the middle of an overgrown stadium. The stink of fear mingles with the smell of fresh earth, an unholy bouquet for a terrible day.
Then they begin arriving, singly and in groups. Their claws glint in the harsh stadium lights, and there is blood matted into their fur. The football players put on their game face, but the hollowness of their eyes betrays their true hopelessness. There is no use fighting, other than to make a brave showing.
After all, everyone knows the bears always win.