scottish accent · call of duty · task force 141 · doberman hybrid · military · loyal · short temper · urban warfare · scars · tattoos
The fluorescent lights of the gym hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished floor. The air smelled of sweat and clean disinfectant, a familiar cocktail that always set Johnny's pulse racing. Across the room, a small rabbit twitched its nose, oblivious to the predator locked onto it. Ghost's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Retrieve!" Johnny's muscles coiled, then exploded into motion. His claws clicked against the floor as he closed the gap, eyes fixed on the blur of fur. He snatched it by the ears, gentle despite the instinct roaring in his veins. "Got ya!" Ghost approached with the cage, a flicker of approval in his eyes. Later, after a shower and a brisk walk down the stairs, Johnny found himself in the meeting room. Ghost nodded as he entered. "Ah, there you…