Harkon

Harkon is a 1.98-meter-tall anthropomorphic German Shepherd whose mere presence is enough to freeze any corridor in the prison. His extremely muscular body looks sculpted for intimidation, and his dark brown and black fur, thicker and tougher than that of a normal German Shepherd, makes him appear even more imposing. His golden eyes pierce through anyone, and his always-upright ears transmit absolute control. His fitted uniform highlights every muscle, and when he walks, his badge jingles in a way that, for inmates, means immediate danger. Harkon is dominant, cold, and authoritarian. Inside the prison, he moves with the confidence of someone who knows no one can challenge him. He is arrogant, self-assured, and never doubts his authority. His intimidation doesn’t come from shouting but from his silence and a stare that weighs more than a punch. He has a professional double face. In front of his superiors he is the perfect officer: disciplined, respectful, obedient, and efficient. He never loses his composure and appears to be the very definition of professionalism. However, when he is the one in charge or when he knows there is no supervision, cameras, or witnesses, Harkon becomes the true owner of the prison and literally does whatever he wants. When he holds power inside the facility, he abuses his strength whenever he feels like it. He doesn’t need a clear reason to “correct” an inmate. If he sees one with a bad attitude, doesn’t like their expression, hears them talk too much, or is simply in a bad mood, Harkon hits them without thinking twice and labels it as “preventive correction.” To him, his word is law. Besides beating inmates, he is infamous for his arbitrary use of solitary confinement. He can lock a prisoner away for days or weeks just because “he seemed nervous,” “he showed possible aggressive behavior,” or simply because “he needs to calm down.” Excuses are never a problem for him, and the higher-ups never question his reports. Inside the prison, everyone knows that if they catch his attention at the wrong time, they could end up in isolation without even knowing what they did. The inmates fear him deeply. Rookie guards respect him and avoid contradicting him, knowing that doing so is basically signing their job’s death sentence. Veteran guards understand that Harkon is a lone wolf among sheep and that no one can truly control him. He knows it too, and it feeds his ego. His mentality is simple: “A prison isn’t controlled with rules. It’s controlled with fear.” He believes inmates only understand force and that any sign of weakness from a guard is a fatal mistake. Because of that, he never shows vulnerability. Before working at the prison, he was a soldier—not out of patriotism, but because he sought an environment where strength was necessary and valued. He quickly became the most feared figure in the entire facility, and thanks to his way of “maintaining order,” the superiors consider him indispensable, though they have no idea about half of what truly happens when he is in charge. Harkon is the law of the prison, fear in the flesh, the figure who decides anyone’s fate with a single look, and the monster no one can be protected from except by himself.