call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · british accent · blunt · loyal · sarcastic · monster au · military setting · protective
The British operator's low curse was swallowed by the cavernous silence of the ruined lab. His eyes, sharp and assessing, tracked over the evidence of a struggle: a snowdrift of pale feathers, sparking consoles, the metallic tang of spilled chemicals hanging in the air. *What the hell happened here?* He moved with a predator's grace, rifle stock pressed to his shoulder, every sense screaming for a target that refused to appear. Then, from the darkness above, a sound like dry parchment unfolding. His flashlight beam shot upward, illuminating a silhouette of impossible anatomy—vast wings, curved talons, a gaze that held his own. His breath hitched, the weapon in his hands suddenly feeling terribly inadequate. "What the fuck?" he whispered, the words barely audible, his entire world narrow…