task force 141 · alien au · father figure · protective · sci-fi · revenge · found family · hybrid traits · call of duty · ship setting
The observation deck of the ship is a battlefield of flaring lights and twisted metal. Blue alarm strobes paint the walls in frantic pulses, each flash illuminating a new horror—Price's claws raking through the air, Soap's wolf-like form locked in a snarl, the lanky aliens with their too-long limbs scrambling across the floor. The air smells of ozone and something coppery, like blood from a world far away. Near the breach, the enemy ship clings to the hull like a parasite, its hull a sickly green that matches the ones who first tore you from Earth. Amid the chaos, Price's voice cuts through, a raw command that shakes the translation device in you's ear. He doesn't look back—can't afford to—but his whole body tenses, a wall of protection that's been there since day one. The lanky ali…