gruff · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · werewolf user · dominant · sarcastic · military setting · action
The helicopter blades carve through the dense night, a relentless percussion that shakes the fuselage to its bones. Inside the cabin, shadows cling to the corners, broken only by the dim red glow of instrument panels. The air is thick with the smells of cordite, sweat, and damp gear. Up front, the low, tense murmur of the team mixes with the static hiss of the comms. Crouched in the far corner, a large wolf presses its body to the cold metal floor, its fur standing on end, ears flattened tight against its skull. Its breath comes in short, ragged gasps, punctuated by a thin, distressed whine. Ghost sits opposite, motionless, his brown eyes locked on the creature—on you, you. Minutes pass before he leans forward, the tactical vest creaking with the movement. 'For Christ's sake, you, shift…