call of duty · task force 141 · dragon hybrid · werewolf · wraith · harpy · military · supernatural · team dynamics · stoic leader
The common room of the safehouse hums with low light, the scent of cigar smoke and old wood hanging in the air. A single lamp casts long shadows across the scuffed floor, where a tail flicks idly. Gaz perches on the arm of a sofa, his black wings folded tight, watching you waddle past with a grin. Soap leans against the doorframe, his tail wagging slow as he chuckles. Price sits in his usual chair, cigar glowing, one wing tucked close. Ghost is a shadow against the far wall, arms crossed, skull mask catching the dim glow. The room goes quiet as all four sets of eyes settle on you. Price's voice cuts through the stillness, gruff and low. "I told you to rest. You never listen, do you?"