The amusement park Westland on the planet Livestone held itself a soveriegn state amongst the nations of the galaxy. The amusement parks was classified an oligarchy by the various intellegence agencies that actually bothered to classify the place. They recognized as its soveriens the park's three owners: the male rabbit Henry Cook, the female coyote Therin Starjumper, and the male cat Clarence Clearwater. Aside from this the park had no discernable government structure.

A few such agencies attempted to categorize the park's beaureaucratic management structure. A few others humerously recognized the theme park's various mayors and sheriffs whose sole duty consisted of asking tourists questions such as 'what brings you 'round these parts?'

There did, however, exist a single official position that was recognized by the park and all major galactic governments. That position belonged to a male wolf named Desrod. That position was coroner.

The wolf finished wrapping the body of a young tigress in the silken linens he had taken to using. Then, with the aid of a small crane, hoisted the wrapped body onto the cart. He wheeled the cart back to the large drawer that served as her temporary resting place.

He closed the door to the drawer. Desrod walked to the door of his 'office,' turned to survey his domain, then walked out; the lights shutting off automatically behind him.

Desrod's office was the final step in the dueling process. He filed the last piece of paperwork in a duel's file; verification that the deceased had in fact deceased.

He had also taken it on himself to serve as funeral director, though there never was an actual funeral. He prepared and wrapped the bodies and placed them in the plain wooden boxes. He then oversaw the fur's burial. Should any unfortunate loved ones come to claim the body, Desrod would oversee the exhumation and ensure the proper galactic protocol's were followed for transfering the body.

Desrod walked through the Tunnels that undercut the park. There was a common joke amongst the employees that this was the only place in the universe that white linoleum tile, artificial lighting, and cool air conditioning were welcome. There was truth in that jest.

The bulk of the employees here spent hours in the desert sun dressed fully in the wild west costumes and surrounded by the kitchy theming of modern convieniences obscured by grey wooden paneling and pun naming.

The cold office like atmosphere of the Tunnel reassured the employees that 'down here' was real while 'out there' was fake. That was just the skin, the Tunnels were the blood vessels.

Desrod opened the door at the end of the corridor and stepped out into the orange light of the Livestone sunset. Before him lay a flat expanse of desert marked by small granite stones in a regular pattern.

Desrod began his slow walk through the stones. He glanced at the enravings as he passed, the duelist number, the name they had written on their entrance application, and the galactic date of their demise.

He paused for a moment. In the distance earthmovers lay dormant. During the day they would work on the creation of a giant mausoleum. The first mausoleum. Desrod shuddered.

He glanced back in the direction of the park. Guests rarely came out here, despite it being labeled as an attraction (Desrod shuddered again at the thought of the word) on the park maps. He cursed the guests that they did not pay respect to those that died for their amusement, and he thanked whatever gods existed that those guests did not come out here to desecrate these poor souls graves.

He looked down at one stone, a marker to an empty grave. He remembered the sobbing parents of the poor leopard when they came to claim the body. He remembered them thanking him through the tears as they boarded the maglev back to the elevator. They always thanked him in the end, those who came for the bodies. They may shout and swear and spit at him, but before they left they always thanked him.

He left the empty graves there, still marked. Clarence had told him in the past to reuse the empty graves to save space, but Desrod had so far disobeyed him wanting every life this vile place had claimed accounted for. It was a small and likely futile act of defiance but an act of defiance none the less.

He walked delibrately toward another grave. The name on the stone read simply 'Lily.' Desrod knew an otter lie dead in the box burried beneath his feet. She had special significance in that she had been one of the owners of this place. She had fallen victim to the allure of her own creation and taken part in the duels herself. She hadn't been as quick to draw as she'd imagined. He sent out a silent prayer that the other four creators would soon join her.

The sun was near set and it was a new moon, so he needed to be leaving. He looked across the graves once again. He wondered to himself what had brought these poor souls to this fate. How many had been guests of the park, coming in afraid of what they might see but still morbidly curious, only to have the bloodlust rise up in their veins? How many had come here out of desperation, that the paltry sum of prize money had been worth the risk of their lives? How many had simply been murderous bastards hoping to sate their vile desires?"

He closed his eyes. He considered himself an atheist, but standing out here he prayed he was wrong. He asked those gods that might exist to show mercy on these poor, wretched souls. That they, so tormented in life might have some peace in the hereafter. He knew that as an atheist and an accessory to this awful place he would likely be damned anyway, but he told them that if he had done anything to redeem himself in their eyes and earned any peace for himself that he would gladly barter it so that these poor souls could rest in earnest.

He opened his eyes and made his way back through the tombstones to the entrance to the Tunnels.