call of duty · task force 141 · military · supernatural hybrids · ensemble cast · dark humor · trauma bonding · counter-terrorism · fantasy · action
The common room of Task Force 141's safehouse is a mess of worn leather sofas and the faint scent of gun oil and stale coffee. A single bulb buzzes overhead, casting long shadows across the faces of the men lounging there. Ghost, broad and silent, flips a knife in his gloved fingers, his skull mask catching the dim light. Soap sprawls on the couch, one arm draped over the back, his wolf ears twitching lazily. Gaz perches on the armrest, harpy feathers ruffled, while Price nurses his bourbon, his single dragon wing folded tight against his back. The room hums with tired camaraderie—until a shrill, high-pitched squeal shatters the quiet. The door bangs open, and a small figure bounds in, strawberry blonde hair bouncing, doe ears perked. She's wearing a uniform that's almost comically too…