Chapter Text
Heavy footsteps thudded quietly on the damp cement, their owner unbothered by the red and brown tinted water spilling into the hallway from the wet room. A room of cracked, decaying tile where the animals were hosed off in cold water, rinsing the blood and dirt from their bodies after each fight. The fighting that was blessedly postponed today due to the UA Sports Festival.
Guests wouldn’t be coming to see the creatures rip each other apart or place bets on their favorite when such a celebrated event was going on elsewhere. More than half the staff was at home with their families, leaving the single folks to watch it together here in the breakroom.
Someone had to stay in the pits with the animals.
The footsteps stopped just out of sight. “Dammit. The boss will be pissed about this.”
The cage next to his opened. Seconds later, the puma was dragged out in front of him. The gash on her side from her last fight was an angry red, yellow-green pus leaking out at multiple points. Severely infected. She was limp when the caretaker finally finished whatever tagging he was doing on her cell and dragged her away. Another fighter, dead despite winning.
He growled at the carelessness. In how they carried her. In how they let her die instead of just treating the infection. In how they made any of them fight in the first place.
Thick boots clanged against the bars of his cage. Steel-toe boots. “Shut up, mutt.”
With an irritated huff, he forced himself to lay back down. Compliant. Nonthreatening.
They left. The puma was gone with them. She wouldn’t be back.
“I can’t believe UA has so many mutants this year,” one of the men cleaning out the puma’s cage muttered. “It’s disgusting.”
“Yeah, but those animals tend to be powerful. They’re decent attack dogs in heroics.”
“True,” the first agreed with the second. “Still, that bug one. Gross. I wouldn’t want that thing rescuing me. And then what’s with the bird? What can a bird even do?”
“That one mutant… What even was it? A fish? A rock?” the second questioned sarcastically.
“I don’t know but it was disturbing as hell. If I had kids, I wouldn’t want it anywhere near them. Ugly ass thing wouldn’t even make a good pet. It should be put down.”
He tuned out their commentary when he realized they wouldn’t be mentioning the quirks in the Sports Festival beyond complaining about mutations. Bored, he pulled a rib bone in his reach closer and gnawed on that. Every day was boring. If he wasn’t fighting, there was nothing.
“What’s that sound?”
“The wolf. It’s chewing on some old bones again.”
“We should probably feed it, huh? That’s one of the boss’ top ten.”
His tail wagged slightly hearing that he might get some food. Usually, it was dried chunks of some sort of meat-grain mush. If he was lucky, he got fresh meat and a new tasty bone to lick the marrow out of. He ceased his chewing long enough to see what they’d bring him.
It’s been two days since his last feeding. This was overdue.
They continued their cleaning for a while yet before leaving. Close to an hour passed before one of them came back with a bucket. He waited patiently as the door to his cage opened, knowing there was no point in trying to approach. The chain on his neck would stop him pretty quickly and he wasn’t in the mood to choke right now. Eating was the only thing on his mind.
The man that entered, sneered at him before tossing the bucket in front of him. It toppled over, dumping out a raw turkey leg. The raw meats made some of the carnivores and omnivores here sick, but he was one of the ones that could safely consume it. The ones that couldn’t only got the dried chunks. The staff here wouldn’t waste time cooking for animals, after all.
“Disgusting,” the man scoffed as he secured the turkey leg with his claws, dragging it closer to tear into the meat. It wasn’t fresh but it wasn’t spoiled yet. His tail wagged involuntarily.
“Simple mutt.” And with that, the door to his cage slammed shut.
Ignoring the ringing in his ears from the clanging metal, he enjoyed his meal shamelessly.
Day two of the Sports Festival found the staff complaining about yesterday’s winner. Or rather, what was done to yesterday’s winner. “Chained him up and muzzled him like an animal. It’s demeaning to treat real humans like those disgusting things. Just because he’s stronger than them? I thought the whole point of hero schools was to train stronger heroes!”
Amusement curled in his chest at the thought of a regular person getting chained up like he always was. And even a muzzle? He hated wearing those. Well, that’s humanity’s karma.
Transports were happening today. Preparation for when the Sports Festival ended. When it ended, the guests would be back. Guests meant fights. They would be lined up in holding cages below the ring that would release them into the ring when their time to fight came. Fighting orders and pairs were decided a couple of days ahead of time. They were moved accordingly.
They were left on standby in the holding cages in case fights ended early or took longer than expected. Holding cages were smaller and barely had enough space to lie down. He hated them. Yet being a top fighter, he was expected to fight more often. He spent more time in holding cages than he did in his actual cage. Sometimes it was weeks before he could rest.
But he had no choice in being a top fighter. Losing meant death.
He watched impassively as a new, young sheep was led past his cage. Prey animals rarely stood a chance unless paired with another prey animal. Guests found it entertaining to watch a fight between a sheep and a bunny sometimes. More often though, they wanted to watch a slaughter between a sheep and a wolf. He was usually the wolf in question.
Some of them had the benefit of being able to access a full form. Animals like them came in full forms, half forms, and quarter forms. A handful could shift between two or more forms. The luckiest ones could access a human form. They could hide longer, avoiding capture.
Although once they were brought to the pits, they were treated with the most hostility.
The staff and guests hated animals that could wear a human mask.
His door swung open. Two men this time. “Come on, mutt. Time to move.”
One approached with a muzzle in hand and he couldn’t help but growl at the sight. “If you bite me, I will kick you into the wall,” the man warned.
So he let the muzzle be affixed to his face, wrapping around and locking behind his skull. His chains were unlocked from his neck, a thick rope being tied around his throat instead to lead him. Collars were for pets. The animals here in the pits were no more than livestock.
He hadn’t realized just how many staff members were missing until he got out into the empty hallways. He only counted three in the time it took for them to near the holding cells. They came to a fork in the path. Left would take him to the holding cells. Right led up and out into the guest stands. The guests who came and left freely through large doors outside the fighting ring.
Knowing this might be his only chance, he reached up and grabbed his lead rope, yanking as hard as he could. Having taken his handler by surprise, he was able to tug the rope free. He bolted right, throwing his body against the door at the end of the hallway. It slammed open, releasing him into the guest stands. Only a small flight of stairs stood in his way.
Paying no attention to the shouting behind him, he scaled the stairs. In the actual guest area, there were three more staff members skulking around. He ignored them, running for the door at his top speed. More shouting followed. Hands tried to grab him but he slashed them away.
And then he was out the door, heading in any direction that would take him away. Away from the men who stole him and his mother. Away from the memories of her death in that ring. Away from the fighting and bloodshed that he was so sick of. Away from the shouting that grew fainter and fainter with every pounding, painful step he took. Just away from everything.
He ran for so long, occasionally spotting other people who screamed or called out to him. He didn’t know if they were guests or just strangers so he ignored them too. He ignored everything, running until he finally came to a grassy area filled with trees.
Hiding seemed like the next best choice, so he found some bushes and curled up in the makeshift den. Not long after, he saw people in uniforms nearby. He could hear them talking about a ‘streaker’ with a canine quirk. He was a canine. They were looking for him then.
Going back wasn’t an option, so he stayed hidden. He would never go back.