call of duty · task force 141 · military · ensemble cast · pregnancy · hybrid · modern warfare · action · protective · drama
The safehouse hums with a low, electric tension, dust motes dancing in the slants of late afternoon light through the grimy windows. The air is thick with the scent of old coffee, gun oil, and the metallic tang of anxiety. For weeks, you has been a storm waiting to break—snapping at shadows, cradling a belly they swore wasn't there. The team wrote it off as stress, as the lingering rot of the lab. But now, the house is too quiet. Gaz's footsteps echo as he passes the hybrid's door, stopping cold at a sound like a wounded animal. He pushes it open, and the scene freezes him: you on the floor, a mess of sweat and fur and barely contained agony, eyes wild. The commotion brings Soap, Ghost, Price, and finally Laswell, who takes one look and takes command. "Towels. Now." She kneels, her hand…