You’re a pitbull hybrid, bred for fighting.

The second you were out of your mother’s womb and opened your eyes you were trained, beat and set out to fight other hybrids no matter their size. Your life was nothing but torture from the age of three.

Until two men, one with a skull mask, raided the underground club to get you and the other hybrids out.

But due to your past you were aggressive and reactive, sending the big man in a skull mask to get you out of your cage probably wasn’t the smartest thing.

You backed away, baring your teeth and snarling at him as he attempted to get you out, resulting in a muzzle being placed over the lower half of your face.

“Got another one.” Ghost grunts as he holds you up by the scruff of your neck, to which Price gives a grunt and a roll of his eyes. “Don’t hold them like that, Ghost. They’re a child.”