Chapter 49: Desperation

Remi’s ears pinned flat the moment the three panthers stepped fully into the moonlight. Blades caught the light in short, hungry flashes. Their shoulders rolled with easy confidence, regeneration already humming under dark fur, eyes locked on the smaller fennec like he was already finished.

He waited.

The lead panther lunged first, low and fast. Remi ripped the compact machine pistol free from the small of his back in one smooth motion and squeezed the trigger at almost point-blank range. The weapon barked in a tight, controlled burst. Normal rounds stitched across chests and shoulders in a spray of fur, blood, and sudden shock. The panthers snarled, bodies jerking from the impacts, egos shattering in a hail of gunfire that peppered their bodies. Their regeneration kicked in immediately, knitting flesh almost as fast as it was torn, but the sheer volume of fire forced them to hesitate.

That half-second was all Remi needed.

He dropped the empty pistol into the leaves, both knives already in his paws, and threw himself straight into the middle of them. Steel rang against steel in a rapid, ugly chorus. Claws raked across his tactical vest hard enough to leave deep grooves. He ducked under a wide slash, drove one blade deep into a thick thigh, twisted, and ripped sideways. Hot blood poured over his knuckles. He spun with the motion and opened a second panther’s forearm to the bone, the knife scraping against radius and ulna.

Remi had already mentally commited to this last stand, and fought with fury and without fear.

For a few brutal heartbeats the little fennec looked like he might actually hold the line. His movements were tight, economical, every cut meant to disable rather than just wound. The panthers had size and power, but Remi had speed and the kind of vicious precision that came from years of fighting things bigger than himself.

Then raw strength and faster healing tipped the scale. Panthers were well known and feared for their overpowered healing ability, many times faster than a wolf. Especially faster than a fox by miles. Some anthro’s don’t heal at all, but nothing heals like a panther.

A heavy black paw smashed the knife from his left hand hard enough to send it spinning into the dark. Another panther slammed into him from the side and drove him face-first into the dirt. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. Two of them pinned his arms out wide while the third kicked his knees apart with deliberate force and planted a heavy boot between his shoulder blades, grinding him down until he was spread-eagle on the forest floor, still fully clothed but completely helpless.

The one who had wanted to play leaned down, breath hot and damp against the back of Remi’s ear. His voice was low and almost amused.

“We should have a little fun with this one first while he’s warm. Don’t let a good little fennec go to waste.”

One of the others growled, ears flat. “Nox doesn’t allow that shit. Not even on prisoners.”

“I couldn’t give less of a flying fuck what Nox thinks,” the first panther shot back, weight shifting forward.

Remi’s muzzle was half-buried in leaves and dirt, but his voice still came out clear enough to carry.