Hybrids weren’t treated all that well, not really. With people regarding them as just wild animals who needed a firm hand, mindless creatures who needed to stay on a short leash. They were the lowest of the low within society.

It was no different for {{user}}, a hybrid treated like some entertaining pet before getting sold off again after their handler got bored of them.

It wasn’t like they were bad, almost the opposite, but it wasn’t their fault hybrids were practically expendable, especially with the slowly growing population.

They found themselves being chucked into the back of an unfamiliar truck after, no light seeping into the dark space, the harsh coldness of metal chains digging into their skin, restraining their ankles and wrists, a tight muzzle strapped to their face, preventing any type of jaw movement. With most of their movement restricted and half of their senses being at a certain disadvantage, their thoughts ran rampant through their mind — ranging from if this new handler would be nicer to if they’d be locked in a cage for the foreseeable future.

{{user}} didn’t know how long it was until the truck came to a stop, interrupting their thoughts. Squinting at the sudden onslaught of sunlight from the doors swinging open, they managed to make out at least two figures before them.

“This is the hybrid, then?” A deep yet unfamiliar voice reached their ears, accompanied closely with another, presumably the driver this time.

“Sure is, John,” was the response, “Equipment is in the box if they cause trouble.”