Jonathan could only be stunned as he woke up and blearily opened his eyes. Where was he...? It was soft and the scent that surrounded him was familiar. His tail had twisted around the soft surface without his knowing, and he was dripping wet.
He wasn't under the concrete anymore, that was for sure. His surroundings were too warm, too happy for a place he belonged in. Ending on that depressing thought, Jonathan looked around to see himself held above the ground. His heart seized at the height so he swiftly looked up instead, not expecting to meet warm chocolate brown eyes staring back at him.
His eyes widened, the height forgotten and instead replaced with various thoughts of what the hell.
The last thing he'd expected to be was in the arms of another person-usually normal people try their best to treat him with scorn, not hold him as if he was precious cargo.
Jonathan was immediately suspicious of the situation. There was no way someone would actually go out of their way to help a raccoon, especially a hybrid raccoon.
The chocolate eyes seemed to search his for something, what that was Jonathan didn't know. An unexpected voice sounded out from further into the room, startling Jonathan. The raccoon looked around to see that the man holding him wasn't the only person in the room. In fact there were seven, all staring at him intensely.
If Jonathan were a normal being, he'd only be slightly uncomfortable, but he wasn't. He was an anxiety ridden, abused hybrid that had never known anything but hate, so to him this was a death sentence. Yelping, Jonathan wiggled out of the man's hold and fell to the ground on his side.
It hurt, especially since his wounds from the last fight with another stray dog hadn't healed all the way through. He could only be lucky that the humans hadn't noticed yet, as Jonathan dared not show any weakness to the group.
Jonathan collected himself before the nice-smelling man could pick him up again, hissed, and ran between their legs to the wooden door.
He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a bit accomplished when he left small markings on their door-they'd kill him, but he'd die content knowing he messed up even a small part of their lives.
One of the other men in the room yelled in protest of his actions, and Jonathan felt a bit smug at the call-out. He stopped soon, though, after realizing that the man in the red jacket-the nice smelling one- had knelt down to his level and reached a hand out.
Jonathan was immediately on the offensive, not believing the intents of the hand for one second. He was too notorious, too hated to be treated with kindness. He almost didn't understand the gesture, he wouldn't have had he not seen it happen to children when he was little and still accepted in the orphanage.
Jonathan backed into the front door, his wet back chafing uncomfortably. The man pulled his hand back quickly, probably afraid of the sharp teeth Jonathan was flashing at him.
Jonathan was panicking. They weren't acting natural. He didn't care how nice or homey feeling someone's scent is-they weren't to be trusted. No one should care nor want to care about him, to him this was a red herring.
Without a second thought, Jonathan ran to the upstairs into the closest room he could find and under the bed. He holed up in the farthest corner and prayed no one would get a fire poker (as such a thing had happened before and not ended with happy results).
Not a minute later a crowd of six people came in-the red jacket man noticeably missing from the group. Jonathan was getting stressed, there was no way he'd make it out alive. These people were going to kill him, that's the only reason why they'd bring him to their home.
One of the men leaned down to look at him from under the bed. Jonathan was sure his eyes glowed a stunning blue as he stared back at them, daring them to make a move. He'd heard talk about getting brooms to flush him out, and he was totally against such an idea.
The man cooed and clicked his tongue, as if calling to an anim- Jonathan froze.
Did they not know he was a hybrid?
Surely they did, everyone knew of the hated and infamous hybrid raccoon that lived in the streets. Thats why no one bothered to help him, even in human form-he was immediately recognized as the city's plague upon the earth.
Jonathan didn't know how to feel. He was numbed. An epiphany suddenly came upon him; this was his chance.
This was his final chance from the heavens to start over! Jonathan could almost whoop with joy. He could act like a raccoon, a domestic one, and be accepted. It wasn't as himself, the human he always was, but it was something! He'd rather be accepted for something he's not than not be accepted at all. He'd just have to figure out a way to win them over.
And he knew he'd already got two of the nine under his thumb, from their earlier reactions.
He could do this, he could win them all over. Maybe.
The door opened, jolting him from his planning, and the red jacket man walked in with a another tall man that smelled faintly of pigs.
In fact, many of the men in the house smelled like one animal or another. How odd.
The red jacket man kneeled with the first one, and stuck his hand out again. Jonathan would have scoffed if he wasn't trying to act like a normal raccoon-surely this man would know not to just stick his hand out to whatever animal he's looking at.
Jonathan huffed, unnoticeable to the other men in the room-which were down to four, as the red jacket man dismissed the rest. Jonathan made a mental note of that; the red jacket man was the leader, if he got the leader's trust he had all of their trust.
The red jacket man-Jonathan hoped to learn his name soon- clicked his tongue again, beckoning him to come. Feeling a bit degraded, Jonathan made his move and shuffled forward to the mans hand, acting as an animal would and sniffed it cautiously first.
Jonathan was well-aware of his deceit to these men, but he was a "worthless and useless raccoon", the least he could do was act the part. He only wanted to survive, as his home from before was reduced to rubble. Besides, Jonathan had no false hope about this-they loved his animal act, not him.
No one could love him.