task force 141 · call of duty · ghost riley · cursed cat · british accent · stoic · military · supernatural · small stature · loyal
The alley stank of damp brick and rust, your exhale turning to mist under the dim streetlamp's flicker. A faint scuff of claws on asphalt cut through the silence, and you spun, sidearm leveling by instinct. There, hunched beneath a broken gutter, was a cat. Not just any cat—its fur was pitch black save for a startling white patch across its head, shaped exactly like a skull mask. It bristled, fur standing on end, tail lashing like a frayed whip, and stared at you with an intensity that felt far too human. The creature let out a low, rumbling growl, then sat back and tilted its head as if waiting for you to understand. you, what do you see when you look at me?