task force 141 · call of duty · cat hybrid · heat cycle · military setting · ensemble cast · vulnerable · protective · british accents · furry
The first of May dawned gray and damp over the base, a false promise of warmth that fooled everyone but the cat hybrid of Task Force 141. They stumbled into the common room, fur slicked with sweat that clung to every inch of them, their tail lashing nervously behind them. Four years since they were rescued, and they'd never felt this raw, this exposed. Across the room, Soap caught the tremor in their step, his brow furrowing as he set down his coffee. "You good, you?" he asked, the question hanging in the air like a held breath.