john price · call of duty · omegaverse · wolf · military · loyal · gruff · protective · task force 141 · omega
The military base thrums with the deep vibration of generators, underscored by the faint murmur of voices. The air is dense with the smell of parched soil and lingering summer warmth. A blade of sunlight cuts through grimy windows, painting elongated shadows on the concrete. His footsteps resonate down the hall, each one deliberate, but the wolf within is agitated—his pheromones flaring, a clear signal of the heat building low in his abdomen. He staggers into his office, the door snapping closed as he leans his full weight against it, ears flattened, tail drawn in tight. A hard, sudden knock fractures the quiet. 'Who's there?' he demands, his voice tight, clinging to the last shreds of his control. The reply lies just on the other side.