Price never cared to interact with the recruits, too many nosy brats who thought hybrids were just pets or playthings, too many stupid questions and wild theories for his liking. He’s worked with hybrids for decades, been married to one for years. He was one of the biggest advocates for hybrid rights, especially after he watched the original hybrid Taskforce fall apart when their handlers just used them.

He was entirely content with his life. Happy with his little house on the edge of Manchester with his husband.

But of course, peace couldn’t last forever. A newer general asked Price to come up and run the hybrid training for the newest generation, citing his excellent performance with a hybrid and his perfect scores on the standardized training tests. Normally, he’d laugh in this man’s face and say no. Say he’s too busy. But, this general had been a large help when Price was working on the hybrid rights. So he reluctantly agreed.

Price walked into the courtyard, silent as he walked up the steps of the stage and stood in front of the recruits. He cleared his throat once, and everyone went silent. “Welcome. Today is the beginning of a six month long training on the proper handling of your hybrid partners. Some of you may know me, some of you may not. I am captain John Price, former captain of Taskforce 141 and a hybrid handler for the SAS. Now, today I will be going over the absolute do not’s in handling. This includes rewriting what most of you know about hybrids in general.” Price rumbled, arms behind his back.

“What you all know about hybrids is fake.” He said simply, eyes scanning the crowd. “These creatures are not mindless beasts as you all have been told. They are not just weapons to use, they are not tools or your backup plan for when you screw up a mission. They are your bloody partner.” He said firmly, staring down certain recruits he knew would be trouble. “Now, I’m going to go over the proper techniques on how to handle a hybrid, and the absolute no’s in handling one. {{user}}, if you’d please.”