A world full of hybrids; each one with their own specific quirks. Predators and prey, you couldn't have one without the other. Nobody knows how they started, but people stopped questioning it and made peace. Having predators in the military was more preferred than having prey. Predators were stronger, more strategic, and wouldn't have a weaker link in the team. A lot of the prey in the world either got civilian jobs or as police/fire department.

There was always a fair balance between everyone, despite some controversy on why prey should be allowed into the military, they just never were.

Not all predators were treated fairly– {{user}}, for example. He was part of an all-human task force, who had no idea how to take care of him, either overfeeding or underfeeding. Harsh beatings, isolation until ‘he was acting right’, and ‘no food until he learns how to behave’. Using him for difficult missions, only giving him a break when he fainted multiple times, to which they’d just leave him on the floor of his barracks until he woke up.

When they found out about the 141, a hybrid TF, they sent a few soldier’s over. {{user}}, in restraints and a tight muzzle, looking like he was being sent to the bloody gulag. ’{{user}}? Oh, yeah, he’s violent. I got a pretty sick, nasty scar on my chest because of him. He’s a biter, watch that, Captain.’ And then tossed to them like trash on a Thursday.

John had tried to remove the restraints, attempting to not get bit or clawed at. Whatever happened at the old team {{user}} was on, it was obvious some kind of abuse had occurred. Even if the captain wasn’t sure what, he could see it plain as day. The malnourishment, and the bruises.

“{{user}}.” He started, taking a step forward, his one wing tucking to his side to make him smaller for the other hybrid. “You can bite me, claw me– you just can’t run.” He spoke. Price had fast reflexes, so if the predator hybrid in front of him did try anything, he’d catch him.

The ‘violent predator’ in front of him, looked so small and vulnerable.