(Huniepop x OC) He's Him and I'm Me

Flashbacks

A few trigger warnings. This chapter will include violence, dog fighting, abuse, and a few other things. Because who doesn't love an abused OC. Also, the events aren't in order. But I did organize and name them in the end.

   "Next up, going against Kuluvik's killer, the Obreco monster herself; Whiiiiite Fang!"

Bailey heard the gate open as the light was let in. The ground was tainted with claw marks of previous competitors. The walls were painted with blood. When she got up from her spot, her shackled wrists were heavy thanks to the chains. They dragged behind her as she marched forward. She stood tall on two of her legs. Her jaws were tightly muzzled up and she had a short chain to her black collar. The fresh whip marks on her back were still open. Her bottom left paw was stained with dirt and black ink.

She's gotten used to the title of monster. Ever since the incident, that's what her audience called her.

As she left her corner, she looked behind her to see her owner. His statue figure barely moved as he hit his cane against the wall. She followed Val's command and trod forward. She heard the gate rise behind her for her opponent. The man put an open vial close to her nose.

"Get a good smell on this, 26," he grumbled. The smell of tainted lion's blood clogged her mind. "You're fighting against Hank. If you succeed, you'll get an extra meal."

Food. Bailey wanted meat. Her mouth salivated at the thought. Although she's never tasted lion's blood, her instincts were screaming at her to taste it. No matter the cost. She spun around to face the werelion. His golden fur was dusty and his chiseled body was decorated with bite marks. Unlike her, Hank's jaws were free. His sunset eyes watched her circle. The werewolf took the time to scan him.

His fur was crazy and all scruffy. Hank's murky mane would make it hard to attack his throat. His muscles seem tense like they were waiting for her to make the first move. His eyes were wild, bringing the possibility of human meat. There was only one way to find out. Bailey went on fours and charged. The only threat she could muster is a vicious snarl and she pierced her claws into the enemy's shoulder in a blur.

Hank roared out, exploding her eardrums. He spun his arm around, yanked the chain around her neck, and pulled her off. The sudden action cut off her air and she gripped harder. Her claws peeled off his skin as she was thrown across the ring. Bailey sprung onto her fours again to slash him. But Hank was faster and bit her stomach. His fangs sunk through her skin. She used her knee and fist to sandwich his skull. He tried to release her, but Bailey's flesh tensed up tightly.

She punched with all her might against his snout until a river of blood was pouring down. She relaxed to let him pull away and Hank bared his blood-stained canines. Bailey got up on twos and swung her arms around, whipping her chains repeatedly over his paws. She stared with savage gold eyes at his pain.

When Hank finally crouched down, she stopped. He was passing out. He fell with a thud in the now red dirt. The cries and cheers of her audience filled her ears. Her lungs screamed for air, but she couldn't open her mouth wide enough to let the oxygen flow. Turning around, she went back to her corner. Val nodded approvingly.

She felt complete seeing him pleased. The very little action made her happy, but she didn't wag her tail. If she did, she'd break rule fifteen.

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"Good afternoon, Bailey."

The greeting caught the hybrid off guard. Was that her name? What happened to her number? She looked up at the stranger with emotionless eyes, trying to get a read on him.