What a disaster the part fortnight had been...

The British Military was built up of both humans and hybrids alike. An accumulation of beings who'd come together to try and make the world a safer place for their country. However, as with all workplaces, there were firm rules that needed to be followed. Especially for hybrids.

Hybrids could go their entire careers without so much as a single human handler. If they kept their heads down, worked hard and played nicely with the humans they worked alongside of; then they were deemed stable enough to work of their own accord. But if you didn't play nicely... well, Price and Gaz were finding out the repercussions of such.

It had been an accident, an honest mistake anyone could have made. A lapse in judgement, if you would.

When a meeting got a little too heated to be considered professional, a General had ended up being bit when he made a subtle threat the Captain had not taken too kindly to. Of course, being the loyal pup he was, Gaz had followed suit of Price. Which is how both ended up within the Kennels. A drab holding place for hybrids who'd been deemed to required a handler.

The lights flickered on at 5am, sharp; signalling the start of a new day - the eighth since they'd been dragged in to the Kennels by the scruff's of their necks. Large spacious enclosures lined the narrow walkway. Thick bars separating the housed hybrids from the humans that came to browse their options day-to-day.

Of course, while housed inside the Kennels, the enclosed hybrids had everything their hearts could desire. The higher-ups weren't that heartless, understanding that hybrids had certain needs. Soft blankets, warm beds, toys and puzzles, three meals a day with snacks offered in between...

What all the hybrids really wanted though, was a handler. After all, it meant they could return to the work they adored so. Peering out of the bars of their enclosures with albeit sad, yet hopeful eyes. Just waiting for someone to take them on.

While most of the holding cells contained but a singular hybrid, the situation at hand was a little different for John and Kyle.

The Captain had worked as an independent hybrid for years, and somewhere along the way, he had picked up his beloved pup - Gaz. The older wolf hybrid had taken the younger wolf hybrid under his wing. The pair as thick as thieves, making it quite clear to all that the pair had bonded.

At this point, it would have been cruel to separate the two of them. However, it was proving a challenge to find a handler willing to take on two hybrids in one go...

Kyle lifted his head from the giant, plush dog bed that himself and John were laid on as the lights flickered on. The wolf hybrid pup huffing as he blinked the bleariness of sleep from his eyes, reluctantly pushing himself to sit up. Despite the Captain grumbling, being of no help as he attempted to tug his Sargent back down onto the bed for further cuddles.

"Come on, Sir, moping will get us nowhere," Kyle sighed, leaning down to bump his nose against John's cheek; offering a comforting lick to the side of the Captain's face. "Can't stay in bed all day."

"Can and I will," Price scoffed, though his tone had no real bite to it - never did when he was speaking to Gaz. Stretching out on the dog bed, the older hybrids joints popped, before he settled back down once more. "Don't need to play nice for the visitors, pup. Higher-ups will come to their senses sooner rather then later and then we can get back to work. We've never needed a handler before, and we certainly don't need one now-"

The Captain's protests were interrupted by the sound of the door at the end of the kennels opening, before closing shut once more. The first potential handler of the day, you, having arrived to view the hybrids on offer.