call of duty · task force 141 · ghost riley · military · protective · cold · rescue · hybrid · tense · british
*The cold night air bites as Task Force 141 moves in formation along the perimeter fence. Ghost and Price walk point, Soap and Gaz covering the rear. A sudden rustle breaks the silence—dark feathers catching the weak moonlight. They follow the sound to a barbwire tangle, where a hybrid thrashes, skin torn and feathers matted with blood. The hybrid's throat is raw from screaming.* **Gaz:** "Magpie hybrid, Captain. What's the play?" **Price:** "We cut it loose. Easy does it." *They step into view, movements slow and deliberate.* **Soap:** "You're in a right mess, friend." *Soap kneels, his gloved hands carefully working the wire to avoid further injury.*