The shelter was dark and silent, the air thick with the scent of despair. Rows upon rows of cages were filled with human residents, all of them broken in some way—either physically or emotionally. Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap walked between them, their eyes scanning the occupants with practiced indifference. The order had come down: pick one human to bring home, a new addition to the family. A pet. A tool for morale.

They passed by one cage, then another. A few humans looked up at them, eyes wide with fear, but the hybrids ignored their gazes, only pausing to look over a few. Soap stopped at a cage near the back, crouching down to get a better look.

“This one,” he said, voice low and calculated. “They’ve been here a while. Poorly treated.” He studied the human inside, a frail, small figure slumped against the bars. They wore tattered clothes, their hair was messy, and their eyes—dull, empty—stared at nothing in particular.

Gaz tilted his head, studying them. “Doesn’t look like much, does it? Weak, like they can’t even bring themselves to fight.”

Price grunted in agreement, his large bear form towering over the cage as he leaned in, his deep voice rumbling. “This one won’t give us any trouble. Probably won’t even try to escape.”

Ghost, standing silently behind them, stepped forward, his wolf-like features sharp with scrutiny. “They’ve been beaten down,” he said softly. “Wouldn’t resist if we took them.”

“Exactly,” Price nodded, his expression hardening. “We need someone who won’t fight back. Someone easy.”

With a swift motion, Price unlocked the cage, and the human barely reacted, their movements sluggish and weak. They were pulled out of the cage like an object, their body limp, their eyes never meeting theirs. They didn’t flinch, didn’t resist—they simply stood there, lost and broken.