*Humans*

The truck bumped along the road and shuttered to a stop infront of the building. The man got out, limping a bit more now as pain and swelling took greater hold of his leg. He first went inside, and was quickly out again with two other men in tote.

The three opened the back end of the truck and hoisted Rocky out in his crate. They lugged him inside the depths of the hated building and set him down near a table. At first they peered in at him, talking with the new owner and asking questions. Finally they opened the crate..

The owner went quickly to grab the cord while the other two men reached out to grab his scruff if he tried to get past him.

Rocky Road

Rocky was on his feet now, getting most of his energy back. Breathe came somewhat shortly though, as the cord was still on him tightly. He had felt his skin break underneath the cord sometime in their journey, turning the once black rope to red and gave him pain whenever the cord shifted on his sore neck. His ear had stopped bleeding, but he was at the verge of getting a massive headache, and his nose had stopped as well. His sore on his side had also swelled in pain, and with the addition of being cramped in a crate after wards, he probably would limp as much as his slavedriver. And then lastly the struck he received from the bar upon his muzzle hurt just because something was touching it, not to mention the cord around it was inbearably tight. The pain all meshed together though and he did not feel them individually. But being an experienced pit dog, he was used to pain, and was able to look past them, and was unfortunatly able to see he was back at the lab.

Three men came back out and he greeted them with a thunderous growl, showing he did have his energy back. He rocked himself, trying desperatly to create as much problems to them as he could, but eventually met the cold floor of the lab. His growl sudued slightly, but increased in volume whenever an ugly face peered at him.

The crate was now opened and his growling increased, but he did not move. With narrowed eyes he watched his slavedriver grab his cord but still he did not move from the back of his crate. He was defenseless against them, what was the point?

*Humans*

The man cursed sharply, tugging at the cord but being unable to move Rocky out. The other two men scrambled behind and lifted the end of the crate up, struggling against Rocky's weight and perhaps any thrashing objections he had to it. They got the crate vertical, dispacing it's canine occupant onto the lab floor before they lifted the cage up and put it aside.

They worked together again, grabbing at him and pulling him up onto the lab table, fighting and cursing if they must. Now the owner and another man made sure Rocky didn't leave the table while the third went about strapping Rocky down to the table to quell any struggles. A mask was brought up from the side of the table, connected to a long tube. A nozzle was turned and a strange-smelling but invisuble gas spewed from the mask, which was now placed infront of Rocky's muzzle.

The man waited now for a few minutes until the gas took affect and put the fighter to sleep. Now the owner talked a bit before exiting the room to have his leg treated. The other two went ahead with the proceedure as asked for. A tracking chip was inserted deep into his ruff. A patch of fur was shaved away from the top of his neck, just above where the shoulders were. Working meticulously, the head 'surgeon' cut down until he reached the spine. A small instrument was placed on the vertebrae and two tiny pins were drilled into the bone, securing the device very near the spinal cord. Now they stiched him up and hauled him out to the Mill.