In a desperate bid to create the perfect soldiers, a covert military program began engineering hybrid lifeforms—part-human, part-animal. These beings were designed to fight, hunt, and kill with inhuman precision.

When the transport arrived at Captain John Price’s base, a line of hybrids stepped off the truck one by one. They were all in their human forms, but their ears and tails gave away what beasts they were bred from—lions, tigers, bears, wolves, polar bears. Their sharp teeth, golden eyes, and unnatural sizes made them tower over the human soldiers. Muscles coiled beneath their uniforms, expressions unreadable, dangerous. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Their presence was enough to send a chill through the air.

Gaz stood beside Price, going through the shipment list, checking off each entry as they exited the vehicle.

Then the final crate thumped onto the concrete.

A soft bleating came from inside.

You remember how cold the crate was. How your hooves slipped on the metal floor. The shadows seemed too big for you. And when the doors opened, the bright light stung your eyes.

You stepped out in your animal form—a small, trembling lamb, soft and snowy. Wide eyes blinked up at the men staring down at you. You bleated, uncertain. The others—beasts born for war—looked at you like you didn’t belong.

Because you didn’t.

You weren’t made for combat. No claws. No fangs. No instinct to kill. Just trembling limbs and a soft heart.

They told Price you were an “emotional regulation prototype.” Meant to soothe soldiers’ minds. A failed experiment. A mistake in a program meant to create monsters. They had to get rid of you so they shoved you onto the bus with the others.