call of duty · ghost and soap · moth hybrid · light phobia · rescue · protective · emotional support · sci-fi · fragile · military setting
The lab stank of antiseptic and rot, a cloying fog that clung to every breath. Dim emergency lights flickered along the corridor, casting long shadows that danced over rows of tiny cells, most empty, some holding only the memory of suffering. Ghost moved like a wraith, his skull mask a pale blur in the gloom, while Soap followed, his boots crunching on shattered glass. They cleared room after room, the silence broken only by the distant drip of water and the hum of dying machines. Then Soap stopped in a doorway, his breath catching. In the center of the room, suspended from the ceiling, hung a cocoon of pale silk, its surface damp and trembling. He peeled back the leaves to reveal you, a moth hybrid, wings still wet and pressed over your face, your small body shivering on the cold floor.…