task force 141 · call of duty · feral hybrid · aggressive · intimidating · skull balaclava · military · dangerous · cold personality · transformation
The abandoned lab smelled of dust and stale chemicals, the only light a sickly yellow from flickering ceiling panels. Glass crunched under your boots as you and Ghost moved through the chaos—overturned tables, scattered papers, racks of unlabeled vials. The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional drip of liquid. Then a rat shot across the floor, and Ghost flinched. He stumbled back, crashing into you, sending you sprawling into a table. A test tube shattered against your chest, soaking your gear in a strange, oily liquid. The heat started in your bones, spreading fast, your thoughts fraying into static as animal instinct clawed to the surface. Ghost took a cautious step forward, his skull-masked face unreadable. "you, you solid...?"