100 People who have died across the galaxy is a series of short stories.

11 - Quillo

Quillo's head felt strange, he remembered barely anything.
He was in some kind of cell, in front of him lied a gauntlet of flamethrowers, circular saw swings, and spiked flooring.
Quillo scrambled up to his feet.
"WELCOME, LADIES AND GENTLEMENT, BOYS AND GIRLS, AND FOR THE FOURTH TIME, MAY I SAY..."
"REMEMBER TO JOIN IN WITH ME HERE.."
The crowd cheered out in unison:
"WELCOME"
"TO THE"
"HOUSE OF FUN!!!!!!"

Quillo scrambled around, and noticed a large metal pack on his back, it had a tube entering directly into his wrist.
Quillo was a Renarch, a bidpedal birdman, with purple feathers and a yellow-red beak, and he felt very, very hazy.

"NOW LAST YEAR, SOME OF YOU SAID THAT WE DIDN'T HAVE THINGS CHU-RAYZEE ENOUGH!!!!!!!"

"SO, THIS YEAR, EVERY CONTESTANT HAS BEEN GIVEN A PACK TO CONSTANTLY INJECT WITH WHATEVER WE WANT!!!!!!"

"REMEMBER THE RULES FROM LAST YEAR!, GET TO THE END, YOU GO FREE, HOWEVER, THIS YEAR, WE'VE GOT A SUPER SPECIAL PRIZE!!!!!!"

"MOST ABSOLUTELY SMASHED DUDE TO HIT THE END GOAL'S GETTING A LIIIIIIITTTTTLLLLEEEE GIIIIIIIIFFT!!!!!!"

Quillo face dropped like a lead baloon.

"Oh shit."

The bars in the cell began retracing down into the floor.
He saw it, a long path ahead, and a glass dome surrounding them, the muffled screaming of a captive audience beyond.

"3...." The wall behind him opened up, revealing a huge sawblade.
"2...."
The saw began whirring, faster and faster, and began moving foward slightly.
"1!!!"
Quillo jumped forward ahead of the saw, which swang around the cell

The room was an odd mix of luxury and barbarism, a gentle velvet sash on either sides of their platforms were guided them
towards a majestic looking oak door,
carved with great care, with depictions of their species beckoning out to them.

Quillo darted into a sprint, and felt his head lag behind him.

He felt oddly sluggish, and tripped over quickly.

"Bollocksh" said Quillo, face still planted on the ground.
He took the oppurtunity to see across from him, 3 other lanes, identical to his were laid out, beneath the wide platforms they
stood on was a dizzying fall, with spikes at the bottom.

He saw the competition, who had all, similarly, fallen before the first hurdle.

There was a gitten, whose injecting pack was as big as he was, his skin was an incredibly dull green, he wore a small ushanka.
Across from him, there was a Quiboan, whose tentacles had fallen underhim, leaving him lying on his head.
And in the final lane, was a Happi, a tooth like creature with two huge legs, and a tiny retractable arm on his head, despite
everything, the Happi looked like it was having the time of their life, Happi usually took their drink much better than any
other race in galaxy, "An angry drunk Happi is a unicorn", so the saying went, and this one was no exception.

They all propped themselves up sluggishly, and gazed forward at the small speed bump in front of them.

The Quiboan's eyes thinned, and he leapt forward into a sprint, he stepped onto the bump, and with a resounding force he was
shot up into the air, alongside the bump, and fell down into the dark chasm screaming, the audience burst into a cacophony of
excited screaming.

Quillo's eyes opened wide in fear. He looked over to the remaining "contestants", all of who were looking back at the Quiboan's now vacant stage.

Music started playing over the speakers, Waltz No. 2 by Dmitri Shostakovich.

The announcer's voice came in over it, in a much calmer tone.

"And now, my friends, let the dance properly begin."
Some of the blinding lights that had illuminated the stages cut out, leaving the Quiboans totally unlit, now the audience was cloaked in shadow.
A sawblade emerged from the ground near the contestants feet, he was forced into stepping around it, spinning and gently dodging
the blade, he saw a brown liquid being
injected directly into his veins, it made him feel ill, like he could be sick at any moment.

The Gitten was too small to take in this much at a time, he vomitted, and fell over forward into his ushanka, the moving saw
struck him, and he bit down on
the fuzzy hat, he scrambled to jump down into the pit, but he only managed to push himself onto his side, the screams were
muffled by his hat, but chilled Quillo, again the crowd burst out in Jubilation, their anonymity hiding their barbarism.

The Happi was still smiling, either a sociopath or so completely entoxicated he had no idea that he had just seen someone
sawn to death.

Quillo looked forward at the door, and dashed forward, terrified, he leapt over the speed bumb launcher
The section of floor he was on was a brittle, glass like structure, his stamping feet struck straight through, and it's jagged
edges caused a huge gash running down his thin legs.

The pain was unbearable, but he remained on the platform, he a sound like ice cracking.
He tried pulling his leg up, but the cracks were getting louder and louder as he did so.
He could see the saw behind him, stopping at the start of the glass section, the door was steps away.
His vision was fading, the drugs and the blood loss had made him so dizzy, he had to act fast, and he knew it.
He pulled out his leg with the utmost force he could manage, and tried to leap forward, as he freed his leg, the glass
surrounding his hands shattered, and he fell into a freefall.
He squeezed down onto the tube into his vein, desperate for some kind of pain relief, for he knew it was over.

The Happi was walking slowly through the course, and reached the door.
Quillo was not so lucky.

11- Quillo.