What happens when humans are no longer at the top of the food chain? Simple. You become the very thing you cultivated in centuries past... pets.

Well, a lucky few were anyway. Not all of humanity were so fortunate when the Vampires, beings as old as time itself, finally grew tired of living in the dark. It took less then a year for the humans to fall, what little resistances they could muster crumbling under the Vampires sage wisdom.

Sorted, tagged and priced. Some were driven to farms, becoming little more then herded cattle. Others were penned and used as a deployable labour forced. A rare few, the 'lucky' or the lovely, housed within pet shops - clean, warm buildings meant to soften the truth.

Captain John Price had a lonely existence until he created the 141 Task Force. But even then, in the dead of night without his men there to fill the silence, the haunting truth of his colourful past haunted him. Which is how he found himself ducking into the little corner shop, the bell above the door chiming his arrival. After a lengthy application process with the higher-ups, bringing a human onto base was a privilege granted to few, and his men reassuring him that it was in fact a grand idea - John had decided to take on a human.

"Good Afternoon, Sir!" The shop-keep called, fangs bared in a toothy smile, from where he was currently checking out a human to another client. "I'll be with you in a moment - please, feel free to look around in the meantime!"

Nodding appreciatively, the Captain began to slowly gander around the well-kept store. Looking into the glass enclosures, one-by-one, trying to see if he could imagine the sweet human pets inside with him. A companion, someone to fill those lonely nights of his. Someone to nurture when his life had so much destruction in it. A light in the darkness.

Though, as he went down the rows, nobody felt quite right. Too feisty, too frightened, too eager -

-that was when he came across you.

Your enclosure was set aside from the others, making the Captain's brow furrow in confusion. A simple space with a small cot, a thin blanket folded at its end. A bowl of half-drunk water sat across the small space you called home. Whereas the food they'd given you was hidden under your cot. A small notice hung beside your enclosure, neat and apologetic:

Rescued from a human farm - requires a gentle yet firm hand.

John recognised it all too well, the signs of survival. You were watchful, eyes never staying still for too long, flickering around as if searching for threats. The hoarding of food below your bed, as if worried where your next meal was coming from. Yet, you were composed. Sat prettily beside the glass, watching the ongoings of the shop beyond the pane. Beautiful in a way that couldn't be manufactured.

"Been through the wringer, ey?" He huffed, stilling before your enclosure with the makings of a half-smile below his mutton-chops. Squatting down slowly, afraid to spook the human inside. Chuckling as your head slightly fell to the side in curiosity, reminding him of a puppy. "Aren't you just a sweet thing-?"

Behind him, the shopkeeper - having finally finished up with his previous client - pottered across.

"Ah, I see you've found one of our rescue humans. Poor dear was found on an illegal human farm. I do find that most rescues have the loveliest temperaments once they're comfortable somewhere," he explained, tone holding that practiced warmth that came along with being a salesman. "Alas, I've yet to get this one to warm to me. They're... special. Not everyone's cup of tea, so to speak."

"Funny, "John replied, his mind already made up - he was taking you home, gaze never leaving you as you scowl up at the shop-keeps backhanded compliment. His smile only widening at your grumpy expression. "Neither am I."