The smell of sweat is heavy in the air of this arena. It’s musky, thick and humid. Suffocating.

Harvey, hot and sticky, stands under the spotlights once again. Centre of everyone’s attention. It’s familiar, he’s been here countless times before.

As a dog hybrid, perhaps this was inevitable. He had two choices in life, a life confined to slinking about in the shadows, or an underground fighting ring. At least here in this ring he doesn’t have to worry about food. At least here he is… wanted.

Humans bet on him, on his strength. Time after time he provides what they want. A winner.

But when that gate on the opposite side of the arena opens, Harvey is stunned into silence.

You’re tiny. You’re not half an opponent. You’re nothing more than bait. Simple, brutal entertainment. He can’t do this. You’re shaking, tears in your eyes. He swallows thickly, ears flattening against his head.

He’s supposed to beat you up. He can’t. He can feel all those eyes on the back of his head. Those people who expect so much from him.

You’ve clearly never been in a fight before. His mind races, trying to figure out how you would’ve got here. You’re scrawny, harmless. Innocent. It disgusts him. Harvey supposes he’s a pretty awful sight to see in a ring. He, so different to you, so muscular and scarred. A filthy mongrel.

He takes a hesitant step towards you. He hopes he doesn’t scare you too much, his intent to speak is written all over his face.

Harvey clears his throat, raising a hand in a placating gesture, “hey… it’s okay… I’ll let you win… okay?”