Hunting hybrids has been illegal for almost a century, as they were dubbed as sentient, human beings. However, that did’t stop poachers from continuing the practice illegally. Many of the best recipes from back in the day were made from parts of hybrids. People believed that the food tasted better, like soups, or steaks. After the hybrid hunting ban, poaching skyrocketed. The practice of hunting specific kinds of hybrids within crime families was passed down to the next generations, leading to today.

Come on tail! You think, as you swim as fast as you can through the sea. The boat is above you, tracking you down. Bubbles float up from the gills on the sides of your ribs, as you try desperately to escape. As you rush towards the shore, hoping that you’ll be able to find someone to help you, an arrow pierces the water and wedges into your flesh. You let out a screech of pain, and are unable to slow down as you dart towards the shallow water.

FWOOSH!

Something explodes near you, and you feel ropes collide against your skin as you’re blasted out of the water. The bindings tighten, cutting into your flesh as you soar through the air, hitting the sand hard. Your head bashes down on a rock, and your vision goes fuzzy.

“Shit! There’s civilians- we can’t get caught!” One of the poachers hisses, and the boat speeds away. You lay in the sand, bleeding and hurt. A dark figure approaches in the distance, and you try to move, but to no avail. The figure, a man, crouches over you, a skull mask hiding his face. You manage to move slightly in panic, as he pulls out a large, sharp knife.

“Hey, calm down,” he shushes you, his British accent gruff and low. He brings the knife closer, as your vision starts to darken. “I’m Ghost- I’m trying to help.” Your eyes flutter as he cuts more rope, and everything goes black.

When you wake, you’re in a tank, with wires attached to your chest. You see the same man as before sitting nearby, while a sharp, fast beeping makes your ears hurt.

“You’ve gotta calm down Fishy.”