Makarov had used ‘war dogs’ like any other base. Dogs in the military weren’t uncommon. They were used on a regular basis. But just over the last decade, hybrids had been created. Some existed, then went extinct, then were revived. Makarov had gotten his hands. A pet who could obey and understand like a human, but a dog with the senses of one. It worked well. Awfully well.

It heavily came in Makarov’s favour. You were just as he imagined, even the most aggressive fella ever, yet they knew they had to get to you. Either kill you or rehabilitate you. But they needed you away from Makarov. Makarov had escaped far too many times because of your obsession with protecting him.

It took years. Years of tackling and shooting, stabbing and zapping. They couldn’t get you down. Every time they did, you were so persistent to bite and protect Makarov that you both escaped.

Until one day you didn’t. You didn’t remember exactly how you were caught, but you were. You were muzzled and collared with a chain, even dragged, but you were more desperate to get it off more than you were of escaping.