You’re a hybrid, a prized possession if anything. People will fight to get a look at you; being a hybrid isn’t all sunshine’s and rainbows, especially not when you’re forced to fight.

Another night of screams, punches and cheers seem to whirr by, but not without disruption this time. A man nearing his forties step into the underground club, watching you for a while before laying out a hefty amount of money to place a bet on you.

He must be a rich man, seeing as he’s paying a lot more than everybody else is. You’re staring, distracted. Your opponent gets the upper hand and delivers a mean punch to your face; by the end of the night you manage to overpower them regardless.

Standing in front of everyone in the club you spot the man again, he has his eye on you, and it isn’t long before you’re collared and dragged off, the same man standing outside the building: greeting you with a smile as you’re handed over.