Well, you guys followed me over to M, huh? A'right then. Many thanks for the kind reviews on the last chapter; I feel like I'm not gonna be able to follow up on that act. ^_^''

Bleak meter: Hard bleak

Timeline: Long time before Season 9/Hunted, when Iron Baron was in full reign, many of the main characters didn't have their Hunter names yet, and Heavy Metal wasn't even around yet.

FireCloud3: Ah, well thank you! That's kind of you.
She does care; all she really wants is someone to care back. And yeah, I have a hard time believing that Faith just strolled into the Baron's position and it all went well. Sure the Baron probably wasn't popular, but he groomed society to run by his rules, and there were probably plenty of people who liked it that way.
If she didn't rationalize what she was doing she wouldn't have made it this far. She needs to feel like she has some excuse if she's going to live with herself.
Yep, that's the system. Wait till you see where Muzzle's been.
Yeahhhhh, if Faith was going to let anyone care about her she'd have to admit she's vulnerable enough to need or want someone to care. Doubt that's happening.
Thanks again!

JustRandom: Ahhh nah, if I had to do a whole comic I'd get sloppy. ^_^''
Hmmmm, interesting. Jet Jack might be an F instead of a T, and Faith might be a J instead of a P, but otherwise they seem accurate. Redskull and Muzzle for sure. As to me, I know I've been tested for this more than once, but I can never remember my results, they seem so confusing and opaque to me. ^_^'' But I found a free test online and it seems I'm an ISFP? Which is weird, I'd have thought I was an . . . INFP . . . come to think I take that back, I'm not sure I want to be Muzzle. XD The funny part, the test was like, eh, you're 60% this, 70% that, 97% INTROVERT - Damn. I work a job where I interact with new people non-stop twelve to fourteen hours a day. How am I not dead yet? I should be dead. XD
So what's yours, then?
And intentionally! Believe it or not he actually has her sense of humor. And the other half is getting her relaxed enough to find anything amusing.
Morality ain't real, fren, this is the First Realm! But your enthusiasm is appreciated.
Whaaaaaat? That's how the First Realm works.
That sign won't - well. You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? :P
You can trust Chew Toy's forecasts! He's very accurate.
Stop looking at Arkade like that, he was only doing what anyone else would have done in his position. :P
The MC's like Faith because they're her top officers, they better be on her side. Within the general population her reputation varies widely.
Dude, that was Season 9 in general. :P
I'm glad, you got just what I was going for. They euthanize each other like animals; life is not seen as anything particularly precious. I'm especially happy that you caught that the healers also kill, that was a central point.
That's one of the highest compliments I can think of, thanks. ^_^'' That's very sweet of you.
It could be set anywhere relative to the previous chapter, honestly. People are kind one minute and jerks the next, it all depends on the situation.
Thank you again. ^_^

They said he would be useful this way. He had dreamed of being useful, but—not like this. He knew he was more durable than the average Hunter, more impervious to pain—but he never wanted to prove it like this. He had thrown himself under a dragon's jaws when he saw Judy about to be killed, he had lived, his wounds hadn't been that bad—but he hadn't asked for this.

They said they had caught one of the Earth dragons alive. They were going to keep it that way too, if they could; a ready source of entertainment. If the hunting season was slow they could soothe their cravings for adrenaline by watching a dragon tearing apart some unlucky soul in the arena.

They said Chaz wasn't going to be a sacrifice, not in the regular sense. They wanted him alive too; his job would be to bait the dragon.

That was about all he had gathered. Nobody told him very much. When some of the more senior Hunters came to take him away, he tried to catch Judy's eyes; but she never looked his way.

"So . . . what am I s'posed to do?" he ventured, his voice thin as they led him along. He hadn't seen this Earth dragon before they caught it. How big was it?

"Today's your test," said one of the Hunters, his grip tight around Chaz's arm. "You'll meet the dragon. We'll see if you live."

"If I live?" yelped Chaz. "What if I don't?"

Neither of his two escorts graced that with an answer. He swallowed, his heart pounding.

"Don't I get armor?" he tried at length. "Weapons? Anything?"

Still no reply. He shook his head, stumbling as his escorts jostled him along. His mind was starting to go blurry, the way it always did just when he needed it the most. What was he missing here? Usually when people were silent and ignored him like this, it was because he was being stupid, he was asking obvious questions. What was he missing here then? Was there some obvious answer for what he was supposed to do? One that, as always, he was just too dense to see?

They weren't really throwing him in with a dragon to die, were they?

The chains and padlocks rattled as one of his escorts opened a massive gate, leading to a paddock made of stone. Something inside rumbled lowly.

Chaz swayed on weak knees, scrabbling to pull his thought back where he needed them. Somewhere in the back of his mind there had been a thread running that this might be a joke, it was all an initiation prank of some kind. They said they were going to feed you to the dragon and they saw how long till you flipped out, or maybe you were supposed to figure out the trick to make them stop, or maybe there was no dragon in there at all, or maybe maybe maybe—

—If it was a joke they took it all the way; they cracked open the gate and thrust him through. He tried to catch himself on his hands and failed, landing hard on his shoulder. He heard the gate slam shut and bolt behind him.

He tasted dust. His mind was sifting away faster than he could snatch at it. His thoughts were like little beetles scurrying around on the surface of his brain, he saw them and watched them but they were only there, they meant nothing. The voice in his head sounded like it was somebody else's. His hands weren't his own.

Something growled from the shadows on the other end of the pen. Slowly he sat up, breathing hard. Walls. Paddock. Dragon. Him. He was here. This was his body. Was it his body? Who else would it be? His body locked here in a pen with a dragon. Death. He was here for death. He was afraid.

He looked down at his shaking hands, trying to come back into himself. Every tiny movement suddenly seemed exquisitely, starkly defined. Flesh, this was his own flesh. It would hurt when the dragon teeth sank into it. There was blood here, right here under his skin, it would be so bright red. This was his body. The dim light inside the paddock seemed searingly bright on his skin. His breath seemed like the loudest thing in the world.

A snarl, then a flash of movement in the shadows. The Earth dragon had caught his scent, calculated his threat. There was no threat.

It burst out into the sunlight, a green and gray mountain of bone and armored scales. It reared back and it seemed to grow endlessly, taller, taller, larger, looming, wings flaring; red eyes glowing, jaw gaping, rows upon rows of thick, crudely serrated teeth that tore flesh and crushed bone. Like hell itself disgorging a demon.

Chaz's breath slowed; stopped; hitched involuntarily. His mind had shut down entirely; only the shrill whine of madness remained. The Earth dragon's hellish silhouette towered above him in silence as he slid down against the wall, laughter bubbling up from his lungs.

Prompt was "Pen."