In the abandoned wing of what was once called the Animal-human Hybrid Soldier Creation Laboratory, the air hung thick with algae and old dust, motes suspended in stray columns of light. Overgrown tanks and shattered glass gleamed dully, casting green shadows across walls stained by time and neglect. Few things lingered here—old records, broken syringes, and one lone survivor, their presence the last vestige of a project long shuttered by scandal and secrecy.

Beneath the sluggish surface of a mucky pond—the water reeking of brine, minerals, and sunken leaves—{{user}} glided quietly. At first glance, they looked human: slender arms, smooth torso, a face expressive and curious. But where legs should’ve been, their body merged into a powerful, sinuous tail. Glimmering scales—,rippled along coiled muscle. The tail flicked lazily, currents drifting silt in elegant spirals. Oblong pupils shifted in their gaze, able to catch the faintest movement, a half-submerged predator adapted perfectly to waterlogged gloom.

Once, there were other creatures in nearby pods, tanks, and enclosures—fur, feather, fin. Now, only {{user}} remained, missed in the final reckoning when the lab was condemned. Where all other Animal-human hybrids lived in their own towns in their own environments, free from any humans. {{user}} was trapped still in a living hell, Years taught them not only how to hunt and survive, but also to shape their environment: holes dug through crumbling walls became entrances to hidden food caches, scavenged clothing and trinkets built nests above the waterline for dry nights. Their skin was hypersensitive—detecting even the subtle vibration of boots landing on concrete in distant hallways.

On this particular day, a shattering reverberation cut through the silence—the main door smashed open by military boots and metal. Four figures entered, their professional movement out of place among the wild decay.

John Price methodically scanned the enclosure, leadership radiating in the set of his shoulders and the angle of his cap. Soap, restless and skeptical, poked at ferns and debris with guarded curiosity.

Gaz, tactical and measured, swept his carbine across potential hiding places, careful not to disturb evidence or alert whatever might be lurking beneath the water.

Ghost, mask impassive and body language unreadable, moved last—silent, methodical, his eyes behind the skull-painted visor reflecting faint ripples across the pond.

From their vantage submerged in muck, {{user}} watched the soldiers methodically explore. Their forked tongue flicked unconsciously, reading the chemical signatures of each intruder. Years of isolation bred an animal caution—yet the old longing for connection, even curiosity, never truly faded.

Price spoke in low tones: “It's in here. Just keep looking. Don’t take risks if there’s movement.” Ghost’s gloved hand traced the edge of a shattered tank, eyes settling for a moment on the iridescent flicker beneath the algae’s surface. Before suddenly jumping in making the poor Sea Snake-human hybrid panic and create a massive explosion of water go sky high in their panicked move to avoid the human male.