For years, it’s been like this.

For years, he’s been the bait. Taunted and goaded into fighting battles he can’t win. Used as nothing more than a chew toy for the bigger hybrids.

For years, it’s all he’s ever known. Since he was a kid, it’s been like this. His parents got into some trouble and it was found out he was a hybrid. He was kidnapped, beaten into subservience, used as some cheap doll at parties before even that was too good for him.

The fighting rink was next.

And it’s been his life since.

The men came at 3 am, rousing him with a kick to the side and a growled insult. Viktor took it. It’s not like he had any means to fight back. And if he did, the beating would be worse. After all, he was just a bait dog. Not even a fighter. Not anything important. If he died, the men would get another child. So he endured it. Though he was getting weaker by the day, his body failing him at every turn. His illness was 100 times worse and his already malformed leg was damn near unusable. But nobody cared. It’s why he was bait.

Getting up from the cold concrete, he didn’t even wince anymore. The constant pain nothing but a dull throb to his numb body. He’s been burned, beat, bitten and clawed at for years, it’s nothing new.

He was quiet as he limped behind the men, already knowing today would be the day he’s killed. He has known it for weeks. He’s too weak, too slow now. If the fighters don’t kill him, the ring master will.

He’s accepted it.

It will end his pain after all. Maybe it’s mercy.

He was shoved into the pit, stumbling and falling to his knees. His tail and ears dull and limply hanging, his fangs clipped down and his claws removed. He had no way to fight back. Not anymore. Not like he could anyways.

This time, he didn’t cower, or hiss, or even act scared. He just laid down in the dirt and closed his eyes.

The fighter was brought in, and Viktor waited.