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.
Years pass. Teams deliberately lose games so they won’t be against them. Eventually, the Goverment starts a programme, to lessen prison overcrowding. Prisoners are selected at random, or so they say, to put on the jerseys and play the bears. None of them ever come back, and crime drops to almost zero. All is well, until there are no more prisoners. The goverment does not know how to choose, but they know that the Super Bowl must go on, and the bears must always win, and choose they must.
People huddle in their houses out of fear; mothers and fathers alike cry, for their children and themselves. No one is able to escape the choosing. The government has resorted to grabbing whoever they could find and carting them off to the point of no return. After all, the bears always win.