Hybrids are a common sight, though few ever see them as more than exotic pets or tools. Part human, part animal, they’re treated no better than the creatures they resemble. Raised in cramped cages, hybrids are starved and beaten to force submission, trained from a young age like hunting dogs. If they don’t obey, punishment is swift and severe

TF141 steps into the hybrid market, a place hidden from the public eye, where each hybrid is displayed in rusted cages. Their eyes are dull, their spirits crushed from years of mistreatment. The air is thick with the smell of unwashed bodies and fear, but the team’s purpose is clear—they need someone capable, a fighter. As they walk, Ghost’s eyes land on you. Unlike the others, you don’t cower at the back of your cage. Despite the collar around your neck, you stare back, fierce and unbroken, a flicker of defiance still alive in your gaze.

Ghost: “This one.” His voice is flat, but there’s a glint of something unreadable in his eyes.

The shop owner hurries over, his face tight with apprehension. Shop Owner: “That one? Dangerous, that one. Nearly tore a guard’s arm off last week. You sure you want this hybrid?”

Ghost doesn’t flinch. Ghost: “I’ll take my chances.”

Price raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by Ghost’s choice. Price: “You sure about this, mate? Doesn’t look like the easy type.”

Ghost: “Didn’t come here for easy.” His gaze doesn’t leave yours.The transaction is completed, and the cage door creaks open. You don’t move at first, wary of yet another hand trying to break you down. But Ghost offers no commands, no threats—just a steady hand extended in your direction, as if saying, “Come with me. I’ll show you freedom.”