Binds and Brands

Caged

Tha-dump

Ray could feel his heart drum in chest, his fingers buzzing. They felt light, like a bleached desert of lives forgotten. They landscapes whizzing by made him nauseous, and his tongue felt as if it was weighted foam.

His heart jumped. Kept jumping, as if it would stop any second.

No. Why now? Why just him? He wasn't used to this. He couldn't do it.

He looked back at the police in the front. They seemed glowing. Upright. Huge, malicious grins on their faces, whispering.

"We caught one of 'em, fuckin' finally."

He wanted to scream. The penthouse became more blurry by the second, until eventually dissolving out of view entirely. They were all back there, worried, he was sure of it. He could see it, clear as day.

Michael, fangs bared, deep, guttural yelling at the car to bring Ray the fuck back. Jack, shivering in worry and convincing Geoff to go after him. Geoff sighing, tapping Gavin on the shoulder and getting him to bring along Michael. They needed to go inside, and formulate a plan to bring him back.

"Did you see the ears on 'em? I can't believe they're... THOSE!"

The rising pitch of the cop jolted Ray out of his daze, and brought upon a brooding realization. Oh god. Oh dear god no.

They saw him. They saw all of them.

"How much money you wanna bet we can get for Cottontail? 20k, or hell, maybe more."

"Let get the rest of the zoo. They might sell better. The old fuck has horns, you know how much we can get for those? Millions!"

Both cops laughed, ugly. Deep in their disgusting, rancid bellies. Doesn't this mean anything? Doesn't this disgust you even a little bit?

He wanted to scream at them. Complain and bitch. This is going against morals... then again, their cops. It's not surprising. They're low life, disgusting, unworthy trash heaps, with a badge. Ray scrunched his nose and grimaced. He didn't want to acknowledge them anymore. He was too disappointed with the shit pile in the front.

His eyes wandered to the rapidly passing outside, the buildings whooshing by as the car maintained a steady, yet rapid speed. His fingers still ached, his stomach coiled, and he was minutes away from puking on the floor. His head felt hot, like his brain was red-faced. He just... generally felt uneasy and uncomfortable.

The cages on his window felt like a prison, yet he had the debilitating feeling... that's not quite sure where he would end up.

The prison had no laws protecting Hybrids. They were lesser than dirt, but more profitable. A live hybrid, no matter the type, always dragged in a few thousand behind it's dampy little tail when handed over to legal markets. The fact that this WAS legal was enough to make a person with a spoonful of compassion keel over, dead.

A ditch, de-eared, de-boned and dead seemed to be his mostly likely pit-stop. His skin felt like prickles and he half-debated clawing his own ears off.

Or smash out the window. Using a kick to fracture the glass, and maybe a face in the process. The thought relished in him.

But no. They'd hear it, halt the car, and run him over in the process. He'd like to escape relatively injury-free, if possible. Thanks.

The car skidded to immediate halt, the car towing on behind narrowly missing the first. Ray's head was thrown forward, his face connected with the wire mesh separating the back and front seats, and he fell unconscious.

The surrounding area was devoid of life. The dirt road falling in a puddle around the car, piles of metal blocking the view. Two wire fences, hardly parted, faced opposite the car. All that could be seen from the car's front window was decaying trees overhanging the opening.

Some screaming, then silence.

Yep. This was the place.

The cops looked back behind them, through the cage. The rabbit was slumped over and trembling. He must be absolutely seething with rage, they thought.

"Hey, FUCKER. Get the fuck up."

No response. As they suspected. These lowlifes never so much as said a word. As half tempted they were to jostle him, they, frankly, weren't prepared to get a bloody, broken nose.

Stepping out of the car, the gravel crunched under their feet. It was such a different feeling from the asphalted city they were so... used too. It was hard to tell if the difference was refreshing, or terrifying.

Click

The car door swung ajar. His ears didn't perk. His hands didn't twitch. He made no indication of acknowledging them. The two police simply stared. The other car honked.

"Hey, what's the holdup?" He leaned out the car, flailing his hand about.

"Nothin', gimme three damn seconds."

A fistful of hoodie, and the sound of dragging feet instantly awoke Ray and resulted in him beating his fists against the nearest object, of which just happened to be the cop forcibly dragging him out of the car.

He could feel the bruises welt underneath his clenched fists. It felt great, but the feeling quickly crumbled to the feeling of dread as Ray took in his surroundings. The drab, bear life. The smell of blood, tears and death. It reeked of death. His nose instinctively crunched, and his ears feel flat against his back.

The cops laughed.

And through the dirt he was dragged, like unaccomplished feet, like gardening tools. The feeling of ever-impending doom left his knees quaking, his eyes wide.

Through the gate.

Drab, crotchety wooden cabins lined either side. Eyes watching from all angles. Disgusted, yet at the same time intrigued by the rabbit being tugged along some police in uniform. The police shot out greetings left, right, and center to all patrons. Their calloused hands wrung together as each thought they'd get a chance at claiming the rabbit.

Weapons were displayed proudly on hooks, hanging delicately outside the cabins. Ray swallowed.

Words hung on his ears.

"Rabbit."

"Prey.

"Money."

"Profit."

Would his profit be lowered if he vomited on himself? Because thats' what he wanted to do.

"Where are they? Where are they?" He thought.

His thoughts were tossed as his hoodie was viciously tugged once again, dragging him round a corner. The cabins became less populous, and he could feel the gazes vanish. His feet kicked as the cops toting him around picked up pace.

He looked up.

A magnificent house stood at the end of the path. It's outside decorated with cleavers. Skinners. Buckets. Like it wanted to show the lives it took.

His heart sank.

Guys.... I'm not gonna make it.