Pierre de Ruiter | 24 | Male | German Shepherd Dog
Mentions: N/A

“Pierre... I’m sorry to say this but... we’ll, you’ve been terminated from your position as a patrol officer,” Chief Bullard said. His head lowered his his hands gently clasped together in front of him, as if the words had pained him too.

Pierre was stupefied, “N-no! I haven’t had a single count of misconduct or... I haven’t done anything wrong-“

The Chief cut him off. “You and I both know it, officer. Hell, you were called to the scene to investigate the situation. You should know that public opinion has changed about your kind... erm... Shifters. It would reflect badly on the rest of our department to have a Shifter officer on the force... especially with fears that you may go savage-“

“Chief...”

“This is not negotiable. The city and surrounding local governments have put out orders that all Shifters in service positions are to be discharged immediately. And that includes you, Pierre,” Chief Bullard finally looked up at Pierre from his desk, shuffling a few papers to the side to lean forward to look at the young officer, whose head started to hang in defeat. When Pierre said nothing, the Chief continued talking, his voice quieter than the bellowing of before. “The new ordinance also requires all Shifters to be put into quarantine.”

Pierre countenance changed to utter shock. He was about to protest before he closed his lips to get the Chief to explain himself further. That was, if he was going to.

“I fought hard for you to be put into one of the very best facilities. One where there haven’t been any traces of the disease...” He trailed off. “It’s for the best, officer, you know that. And hell, when this whole mess is figured out, we’d love to have you back on the force. You’ve put in 4 years with us already, so you know you’ll always be welcome back...” The Chief paused, sighing a bit before he attempted to brighten up the mood. “And you know what? I’ll let you keep your badges. You haven’t done any wrong-doing, so what I’m saying is- you’ll still have a job when you come back after this temporary... inconvenience.”

...

A heavy eyelid fluttered open, revealing a dull amber eye. Pierre blinked several times to clear up his cloudy vision to reorient himself. It wasn’t uncommon that he woke up in unfamiliar places, having never remembered where or when he fell asleep. He could feel that under his body was the softness of a mattress... at least softness in the sense that it was better than being on the concrete floor. With a deep sigh Pierre moved and arm... which was a leg, one covered in mostly black fur with hints of tan peering through the blackness of his coat near his paws. Again? This has happened the past few nights... Pierre thought to himself. He knew this wasn’t his own doing, as around his left leg was a white bandage wrapped snuggly around a small wound, likely caused by a blood draw or any other minor procedure.

The Shepherd sat up on his bed, and instantly, he was hit with a most unpleasant headache- a tell-tale sign that he’d shifted forms between the time he went to bed and the time he woke up. The half-Shifter was a little worse of than other half-breeds of his kind, for he shifted so infrequently that changing forms affected him deeply. As always, the collar is his neck bothered him greatly. Just feeling the firmly box against his neck was enough of annoyance. However, he was glad that there weren’t any metal contact points digging into his neck at all times.

Pierre hopped off his bed, nails clicking onto the floor with a most unsettling clack, clack, clack! They were getting again, and he’d be damned if he begged for someone to grind his nails down with a dremel. He’d chew them down a bit on his own time, that was a promise. He temporarily forget about his nails and stretched his body out, enjoying the sensation of his muscles getting to move after being stationary all night.

A clock on the metal door told him that the time was 7:07 AM- it’d be another hour before someone came to take him to breakfast. Normally, Pierre would be getting ready... but he was in no shape to shift back to a human in his own, but he knew he’d be forced to in due time, or he’d receive the honor of missing breakfast. And Pierre was not one to skip meals.

He turned his head, giving a sidelong glance at the tiny bathroom hollowed into his room. Behind the door was a minuscule bathroom that had a toilet, a sink, a shower, and a silver compartment in the wall for placing laundry in to be washed. Pierre thought only briefly about going to the bathroom, but instead, walked several steps forward, and sat down in front of the glass that separated him from the corridor.

He cocked his head to the side, seeing himself reflected only slightly into the glass. He had to admit, he was pretty cute as a dog. And sometimes, that worked a little too well- a guard had once taken him out to the courtyard on a leash, thinking that he wouldn’t cause any trouble. And he was right... Pierre walked happily through the corridors, even though he could have easily escaped from the guard’s grasp. Though that guard was fired from his job, Pierre still knew that his own reputation among the shifters had been affected. Sometimes, he knew that he wasn’t well-liked because of his seeming complacency.

Deep down, he was just playing his cards right, doing everything he should to make others lay their own guards down around him.

Pierre had been an actor throughout his life. And this, this was just a new role.


~


Giselle “Gigi” Rothstein | 18 | Female | Striped Hyena
Mentions: Pierre

Another morning. As always, Giselle woke up on her stomach, her preferred sleeping pose. The scent of harsh chemical was still in the air from yesterday’s cleaning, as she had quite literally worried herself sick. A twitch of her nose and sigh later, Giselle sat up on her bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her hair was a tangled wreck, as per usual every morning. But rather than focus on that at the moment, dark brown eyes skirted to the cell across the hall- Pierre’s.

It had become a sort of knee-jerk reaction to look over and across at his cell each day, as if it could calm her anymore. At Cloverfield, Shifters seemed to go in and out all the time. There was no telling who would leave or when. When she saw that the sheet of metal had been moved up, as it did automatically each day at 6:00 AM (and closed at 10:00 PM) to give a little privacy, she was more than relieved to see the shepherd dog there, looking a little dazed and confused at the events of the previous night, but nonetheless, okay and familiar. Gigi could breathe out a sigh of relief then, knowing that the familiarity would stick around for at least another day. Her mind contented, she stood up from her bed, bones cracking softly in protest as she walked to her miniaturized bathroom.

A strip of her clothes later and she was in the shower. As soon as she turned the faucet on, the timer in the wall began to tick down. Each shifter had 10 minutes per 24 hours to shower. Once the 10 minutes were up, the water turned off, and the timer reset to countdown from 24:00:00. Giselle wished she could have longer showers, just to feel the warmth of the water against her skin just a bit longer, rather than worry about the time slipping away from the counter. She used to be on a youth swim team, so being in the water was like second nature... though it had been ages since she’d felt the cool embrace of the pools and inhaled the overwhelming scent of chlorine.

One shower later, and Giselle was dumping her dirty clothes down into the metal box. Who knows whether she would get those exact ones back? As far as she knew, everyone’s clothes dropped into a single, or a small number of boxes to be wash. All she knew is that some clothes would come back to her, without a promise of them being hers. Gigi stalked out of bathroom and raced to the ident in the wall where her clothes were. She’d cursed herself for forgetting to grab them to take in the bathroom. She didn’t necessarily need to worry about being “indecent” as the towel was big enough to fit around her body twice, and it dropped almost to her ankles. Still, she didn’t like the idea of Pierre or any of the guards who may be patrolling the hallway to see her indecent.

When she’d returned to the bathroom, Giselle finally could see what she’d grabbed- a pair of black cotton underwear, a gray sports bra, black sweat pants, and a white T-shirt. Simple, as it always was. But like everyone else, she yearned for something different. Oh, how she’d love to be able to enjoy herself just once again. Even if that meant going to a restaurant wearing a pretty dress, it mattered none. Of course, she knew that wasn’t possible, for grave danger of a disease still lurked in the outside world.

After pulling her clothes on, Giselle flipped onto her bed which let out a loud squeal underneath her. It wouldn’t be long before a guard came to escort her to breakfast. Her stomach had no complaints about that. She’d skipped dinner last night and any food at all would be enough to calm her growling stomach.

Flynn Lockett 'Magpie' | 27 | Male | Red-billed Blue Magpie
Mentions: None, Open

Vervain Poinsettia | 19 | Female | Mountain Lion
Mentions: None, Open

Rafael Ramírez | 25 | Male | Central American Jaguar
Mentions: None, Open

Cold air burned his lungs as Rafael pushed deeper into the forest, twisting and turning to avoid colliding with the thick trunks blocking his path as he desperately blundered onward. His limbs felt cumbersome, his movements clumsy and laced with pain. Another body crashed through the underbrush beside him, the jaguar’s rushed pawsteps faltering with exhaustion. Rafael forced himself to keep pace with her despite every instinct urging him to preserve his own life. He would never abandon her. The sound of gunfire echoed in the silence, and a snarl escaped his maw as a bullet plunged into his flank, the force of it throwing Rafael off course, sending him tumbling to the ground.

He landed on his side with a heavy thud, his head spinning. This wasn’t the first wound he’d received during their mad dash for safety, but at this moment it felt like it might be the last. The pain was too much. He couldn’t bear to lift himself to his paws. A shadow loomed over him, and Rafael's eyes met his grandmother’s terrified gaze. “Get up!” She demanded, her voice rough with fear. He wanted to tell her he couldn’t, but the words failed to come and he could only groan in response. “Get up Rafe!” She pleaded, her voice starting to shake. He could hear footsteps in the distance now. They were coming.

“Go without me,” he managed to wheeze, but she wasn’t having any of that. Leaping into action, she began shoving at him with her broad head until he stood once more on trembling legs, understanding they would both die if he continued to argue. Fresh blood poured from the wound, and he felt impossibly dizzy. Their stride was slower than ever, as he half trotted, half leaned against his grandmother’s side, nearly slumping back to the leaf-strewn floor more than once.

His grandmother whispered encouragements in his ear as they continued forward, hoping against the odds to escape their pursuers. Suddenly, the trees ahead of them opened up, and they stumbled out onto a road. Blinding light poured over them, and the sound of screeching tires filled his ears.

A roar so loud it reverberated through the hall and off the walls of each room spilled from his mouth, golden eyes wild and unfocused as they frantically scanned the room. It took a moment to realize where he was, and Rafael found himself standing atop his bed in jaguar form, his claws sunk deep into his mattress. His blankets and sheets were positively shredded, and he sighed in embarrassment, ears flattening against his skull. He’d had the same nightmare, or rather a reliving of unpleasant memories, three times this week and he could tell the guards were getting annoyed about the damage he caused during his night terrors.

Sliding down to the floor, he grabbed his clothes for the day between his teeth and escaped into the shower, hoping to avoid the guards who would no doubt come running to see what the commotion was about. A mild pressure built in his temples as he switched back to human form, but by the time the water was turned off, it had faded to a dull ache. Once dressed he peered toward the glass window to see if anyone was waiting for him and was relieved to find the hallway empty. He folded the ruined coverings by the end of his bed, knowing they would be replaced by the time he returned.

Before long two guards came to fetch him, one of them pointedly glancing at the torn sheets and Rafael offered an apologetic grimace before being led to the cafeteria. He kept his eyes lowered, avoiding meeting anyone else’s gaze as he received his breakfast and went to sit at a lone table. He still felt shaken by the dream, and it left him feeling subdued and far less snarky than usual. The guards probably preferred him this way.

Siobhan Stone | 21 | Female | Black-backed Jackal
Mentions: None, Open

Siobhan ran a brush through her long hair, attempts to chase out the frizz and tame her thick curls becoming more difficult with each passing day. Three years in this God-forsaken facility hadn’t been kind to her once luxuriant locks. It felt overly dry and brittle as she twisted a ringlet around one finger and she sighed. They didn’t have the right kind of shampoo and hair products were practically non-existent. It had been like pulling teeth to even get them to allow her a silk scarf to wrap her hair in overnight.

A familiar sense of misery threatened to consume her. It might seem like such a minor inconvenience to anyone else, but Siobhan had put so much work into her image and looking a certain way. She couldn’t help the despair she felt every time she stared at her reflection. Forcing a neutral expression to her face, she finally left the tiny excuse for a bathroom every shifter had in their cage, seating herself on her bed as she waited for a guard to come fetch her. Cage. They didn’t like it when she called her room that, which guaranteed she wouldn’t refer to it as anything else. They didn’t like it because it made them uncomfortable and she wanted them to think about it every time they locked her inside it.

It wasn’t long before footsteps sounded in the hallway and her escort arrived. She offered the man a small smile, seemingly in a pleasant mood for once as far as he was concerned. “I think I’d like to cut my hair. Can that be arranged?” She asked quite suddenly as they made their way to the cafeteria, the guard seemingly taken aback.

“I...suppose I could ask about it. Are you sure?”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, the smile on her lips faltering. “Yes, quite sure,” she concluded solemnly. The rest of the journey passed in silence and the guard left her once she entered the spacious area. Siobhan grabbed a tray and moved to stand in line, accepting whatever slop they offered her without complaint. Her thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

Pierre de Ruiter | 24 | Male | German Shepherd
Mentions: Giselle

Pierre’s head cocked to the side as he watched Gigi scuttle off to her own bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel. He found in somewhat amusing that she did so. He couldn’t see her indecently, not that he wanted to, anyway. But she was always so shy and jumpy when she was in anything but her clothes and anywhere but her room. Rather than the hyena shifter that she was, Pierre likened her more to an easily-startled deer. At any moment, she freeze before taking off. That was Gigi after all... Too scared out of her wits over some “disease” that even he was sure was a phony. He shook his head then and turned away from the glass. Occupying his thoughts with the jumpy girl wouldn’t help him get prepared for another day in the grind.

Pierre hesitated then, his large head lowering to the smooth floor to look at his front paws, the paws that he was so used to seeing when he looked down. Even though he’d been shifting almost on the daily for the past four years to appease the higher-ups in the facility, it still didn’t help him get used to the strange feelings he got. Pierre himself felt more canine than human anyway- going for months, even years without shifting. And safe to say, sometimes he felt instinctual pulls to strange activities, such as trying to bite the water as it flowed out of the shower head, turning around several times before laying down to sleep, and the strangest of them all- the impulse to chase after fast-moving objects.

He sighed then, letting the shift take the reins. Pierre eased up, yet his body tended as he felt his body following his will and changing into a human. After the tension and tingling ended, Pierre was left on the floor, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants than threatened to slide off. And his head... the awful pain that he felt before was exacerbated by the extra shift. “Ugh...” Pierre groaned, slapping a cool hand to his forehead for relief. “Never gets better,” he growled softly to himself. It’s been four years. I’ve been shifting so long in that that time, and I still suck at recovery. Just my luck. He thought as he picked himself off the ground by placing his other hand on the floor to assist him from kneeling to standing.

He went about his usual routine then, scooping up whatever clothes were in his “closet”, before taking them to the bathroom to change into in after his shower. He slipped his clothes on to see what today’s outfit was- black sweatpants and a charcoal gray T-shirt. Classic. He combed out his hair, which was growing rather long, threatening to partially cover his vision. But the hair growth that bothered him was his beard growth. Seeing those near-black hairs sprouting from the sides of his face, from his chin, and above his lip made his skin crawl. How he just wanted to shave those hairs off himself! The only way he would be able to get a shave was to ask a guard, but even then, the request wouldn’t always be fulfilled. Or sometimes it was, under the stipulation that someone else shave his face while he was in restrains, so he wouldn’t take advantage of having a “weapon.” With a sigh, Pierre moved on, knowing that it would probably be several more days before he got his much-needed shave.

After slipping on some socks, Pierre went to the back of his cell. He knew that he would be called forth soon, as he could hear guards making their way up the corridor. He stood with his hands above his head before he heard the same, annoying tone of voice call him forth, “Pierre Gilles de Ruiter, you may now proceed to the door,” And as always, he cracked a cheeky smile at hearing his name being pronounced so poorly... as always. Part of him wonder if it angered the guards that he walked forward every day with a dumb grin on his face. He’d made some guards upset more than a few times, thinking it was arrogance on his part. But nonetheless, Pierre slipped under the doorway as it was held open for him. And as he did so, he looked to the side to see Giselle slipping out of her room to join him from behind.

. . . . . . . .

Giselle “Gigi” Rothstein | 18 | Female | Striped Hyena
Mentions: Pierre

In her waiting, Giselle was constructing a letter to her father in her mind. Even though her anxious mind was almost always revving at a thousand miles an hour, she could still find it in her to compose letters that would never be sent, or even written for that matter. She’d begged some guards to send letters for her, but she didn’t think any of them were actually ever sent, for her father always mentioned how he yearned to receive a letter from her one day. Dear Dad, Things have been good as usual here. I’m doing well, and I think I have a friend here. I wish I could see you again, but I know that it’s unsafe for me to leave still. I miss you and mom. I wish I could see you guys again....

She shook her head, attempting to shake the welling tears in her eyes away. It was always painful thinking about the world on the outside... her family, everything she’s missed... But who was she kidding? It was dangerous out there. If it meant keeping everyone on the outside safe from her confinement, then Giselle would stay confined for a lifetime to keep others safe. No matter what those other nutty shifters thought. There was imminent danger, danger she’d seen with her own eyes, but danger none of them had witnessed.

A gurgling of her stomach drew Gigi out of her reverie. Her black waves of ghost bounced as she turned her head to side to the clock. It’s time. Finally. I’m dying for something to eat. But, I’m definitely not dying for the company of conspiracy theories. Giselle thought as she planted her feet firmly on the ground before standing and back up. She stood with her hands up, defenseless and proving that she had nothing dangerous on her. When she’d just been accepted into the facility, they’d wanted to search her before she could leave her room, which proved futile as not once did she have anything dangerous on.

“Giselle Rothstein, you may now proceed to the door,” the guard’s voice droned. Gigi walked forward, almost too enthusiastically. She was dying to get out of her room and have some breakfast. Especially after missing supper.

After slipping out of her room and taking her place in line of just the two of them, separated by another guard. She considered saying something to the ex-cop, but she knew anything she’d say now would come out awkward. After all, everything had been incredibly awkward ever since she’d heard Pierre state his age to a doctor who wanted to take him back for some tests. I can’t believe I had a crush on him at one point. Giselle thought to herself as the guards started walking around them to escort them to breakfast.

At least... she could be grateful that they could be taken out as a pair, rather than being one of the poor saps who needed two guards to handle them between locations...