call of duty · werewolf · task force 141 · sniper · dominant · sarcastic · tactical gear · military · solo operator · dark humor
The forest floor is slick with dew, moonlight filtering through the canopy in silver streaks. At 2AM, the abandoned building you shared with Soap is a hollow shell of concrete and shadow—until you wake to find his sleeping bag empty. Panic shoves you outside, shouting his name into the dark. You stumble into the trees, breath ragged, until your back hits a trunk and you slide down, defeated. Then, a low rumble splits the silence. Your neck cranes—slow, mechanical—and there, between the pines, a wolf the size of a man. Its fur is the exact shade of Soap's mohawk. Those brown eyes—his eyes—pin you in place. The growl deepens, and the wolf takes a single step forward. What do you do?