Omg yes someone needs to draw these
I think tua characters as animals would be
five - black cat
klaus - tabby cat or calico cat ( I hc him and five as twins )
ben - schipperke, doberman, any type of black dog tbh
diego - wolverine or panther
allison - fleemish giant rabbit or a reindeer
vanya - goat or ram
luther - brown bear ( with the canon body modifications so ig part monkey too )
I need this as a full fic 😫
The mystery of how Alex had gotten here was another problem. Last he remembered, he had been with several MI6 agents debriefing after the crash of Air Force One then he had been bundled into a car allegedly to go back home and now...he took stock of the barren interrogation room again. He doubted he was with MI6 and he had thoroughly crushed Cray and his plan which left very few options of who could have known about the operation and have the resources of stealing him out from under his handlers.
The door opened seamlessly cutting off his thoughts and of fucking course things couldn’t be easy could they? He mused taking in the tall, blonde that strode purposefully into the room then froze when he registered just who was sitting in front of him.
“Oh hey, Dad , fancy seeing you here.”
He didn’t know why he was surprised, Ian had told him his father was “in the field”. Alex hadn’t known what that meant and Ian had refused any attempt of Alex to ask with ‘It’s better for both of you not to know. If you got caught Alex…’ at first he had been offended that Ian had thought he would break so easily under torture. And then he had actually been tortured and he appreciated the small mercy.
“Alex?” It occurred to him that he had never seen his Dad look afraid before - angry, sure, but afraid? John Rider was too prideful for that. Turned out, he didn’t want to see his normally cocky and exuberant Dad scared. The fact that Alex was currently sitting tied to a chair in what was obviously an interrogation room and with his Dad as a potential interrogator probably didn’t help. Combined with the fact that his father had no idea that he was being brought here, wherever that was, and there was no way that could even be remotely considered a good sign.
“What are you doing here?” He hissed, voice tinged with anger. There was the Dad he knew and loved sometimes.