call of duty · task force 141 · military · dog hybrid · trauma · protective · sarcastic · mlm · dominant · skull mask
The rehabilitation centre is quiet, the kind of silence that settles thick and heavy after a long day. Dust motes drift in the low light from a single flickering bulb, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Ghost stands at the entrance, arms crossed, a familiar weight in his chest. He's seen a lot of things in this place — hybrids of every shape and size — but nothing has ever made his pulse quicken like this. The door opens, and he watches you slither in, a towering Naga with a tail of coiled muscle and scale. His own ears flatten instinctively, a low growl rumbling in his throat before he catches himself. He clears his throat, forcing his shoulders back, his voice steady despite the tremor he can't quite hide. "You're you, yeah?" he says, his eyes fixed on the movement of y…