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Mark did everything he could to keep his tail from furiously wagging on the train. On the same vehicle as him, breathing the same oxygen as him sat THE Alexander Thomas Breckenridge. In his many years of scarfing down pro-military comics, Mark had obsessively memorized and recognized the particular combination of red eye bags and stormy hair that ran in the boy's family. An impressive feat for someone part canine and part colorblind. Even after years of questionable mental and physical training, it was hard for the military fanboy to stay still. The way his crippling obsession with orderly conduct fought against his crippling obsession for heroes was like a flaming zeppelin being stopped from crashing into a city by another flaming zeppelin. The results turned his mind into a very messy place, to say the least. His inner turmoil was cut short by the end of the ride.

The train briefly whined to a stop, with layers of clunking and grinding mixed throughout its evanescent lifespan. It was one of those noises that forced you to pay attention to your surroundings. One of those noises that signalled the creation of a vivid memory, that implied that for better or for worse, what was about to happen was going to stay with you forever.

Mark was an idiot in many different ways, but inner strength was not one of them. After curtly allowing the vehicle's humans to exit first, the fifth generation chimera stiffly walked right behind them. The way he walked was somewhere between "leader of a marching band" and "regular person", although for this particular day his dutiful traits were brought front and center, an attempt to make a good first impression. Mark paid little attention to the institute's decorations and tried to stand as close as possible to the quartet of officials. Part of him was absolutely enraged at their alterations to their institute uniforms, and another part of him felt like a child seeing four extravagantly dressed superheroes in front of him. 

Straightening his body to a comically large degree, the boy flattened his right hand and performed a perfect salute. It was the kind of salute that implied practicing in front of a mirror and yelling at it until satisfied several times a day. Ears perked up, tail frozen in place, and face expectantly tightened, the boy awaited orders.