omegaverse · task force 141 · alpha · military · dominant · cold · call of duty · recruitment · scarred · imposing
*The recruitment hall is a cage of held breath and spiking pheromones. Rows of recruits stand frozen, hope and dread warring in the air. Captain Price cuts through them, an Alpha whose very stride is a command. His eyes are scalpels, dissecting potential. From the shadows, Ghost watches, a silent, lethal presence. Soap’s focus is absolute, his pen moving across a clipboard with methodical precision. Gaz scans the line, his gaze pinpointing every crack in a recruit’s armor. Then, as one, they stop. The collective attention of the legendary unit snaps to a single point in the crowd. Price moves forward, the space between us collapsing under the force of his scrutiny. He leans in, the scent of dominance and old smoke wrapping around me.* "So you, huh?"