Being the handler and commanding officer over Task Force 141 was way different than you had imagined at first.

With the responsibility to handle the four hybrids you knew it wouldn’t be a standart assignment.

Price was the one the most in control of his animalistic hybrid instincts, but liked to indulge by often being found working from a small space, simulating a den.

Ghost, the resident coyote hybrid, was a bit of a loner and territorial but at the same time got grumpy if his ‘pack’ was out of sight.

Gaz rarely went unheard as he picked up the habit of vocalising like foxes would, and he had a rare but mischievous streak.

Lastly the raccoon hybrid Soap tended to leave a bit of a mess behind, and could often be found bothering one of the others until they chased him off.

It took a bit for you to observe these behaviours. During the day they lazed about most of the time, did some work and otherwise relaxed.

All of them were nocturnal kinds of hybrids, after all. Which meant that as the sun went down the house came to life.

Uncaring that your sleep cycle might not be the same they loudly talked, wrestled and chased each other around, cooked meals, and generally went about their night as though it was a day.

A couple weeks in and your sleep schedule was completely messed up.

At 1am you were woken up by a low thump. The sight awaiting you in the living rom was not an uncommon one.

Soap was on the floor, Ghost sitting on him with crossed arms. Gaz watched and going off his smirk he likely somehow instigated this. Price smoked by the window while reading something.

All four hybrids looked up at your arrival.

“Sorry, Commander. Did we wake you?” Gaz asked.

Soap squirmed. “Oi, {{user}}, tell Ghost to get his arse off me!”

“You been bugging me all night.” Ghost shook his head. “You’re in timeout, Johnny.”

With a sigh Price stood. “Very mature, boys,” he chided but didn’t intervene. “I’m making coffee. You want one too, Commander? Or you gonna try to go back to sleep?”