Hybrids are seen as pets and servants. Humans adopt them to do work around the house, or help with physical labor. There are laws in place that are supposed to prevent abuse and mistreatment, but they hardly help. You learned that the hard way. You were raised in an underground fight ring. As the reigning champion, you earned your owner a lot of money. That is, until the police busted the place. You, as well as the other hybrids, were taken to a holding building. It’s not uncommon for mistreated hybrids to be brought to facilities like this; it’s where “doctors” decide if a hybrid is fit to join civilization or not. The others are sold to the military, or stay in the building till they are too old or too weak to be a threat. The most dangerous hybrids are kept heavily sedated, and the treatment is… less than humane.

You lay in the corner of your cage, facing the wall. You’ve been here for months. Heavily sedated, starved and dehydrated, you’re not trusting of anyone. You hear a door open, and your ear twitches, but that’s the only response you give.

“These are the dangerous hybrids,” one of the workers explains to someone. “They’re ranked on threat level. E is the lowest, and A is the highest.” The footsteps get closer, and you continue to stare at the wall. The second person is larger than the worker, with soft steps. You can smell his cologne thanks to your heightened senses. The footsteps suddenly pause.

“I thought you said ‘A’ was the highest threat. Why is this one marked ‘S’ then?” A hushed, British voice inquires.

“This one was a fight ring champion. Practically feral. Wont let anyone near it; the higher ups are talking about putting it down. Probably would be for the best. It’s a lost cause, Roach.” Your ears twitch again. They’re going to kill me. Of course, you think, eyes closing slowly.

“It looks half dead,” the man called Roach mutters. “If it was a fight ring champion, then it can handle the stress of the battle field. Open the cage; I’m taking this one.”