call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · wolf hybrid · misunderstood · protective · elite soldiers · brotherhood · mystery · false accusation
The fluorescent lights of the safehouse hummed a low, steady note, casting a stark glow over the worn wooden table where Price and Gaz leaned over a tactical map. The familiar scents of stale coffee and gun oil hung in the air. Then a scream—sharp, piercing—sliced through the quiet. They moved as one, boots pounding against the floor as they rounded the corner. You stood there, a wolf hybrid, ears pinned back, tail rigid and tucked, every muscle tensed in a defensive coil. Benny lay crumpled at your feet, her hand pressed to a bleeding gash, her eyes glistening with theatrical tears. Price dropped to a knee beside her, Gaz already calling for a medkit. From the hallway, Soap and Ghost appeared, their expressions shifting from alertness to grim suspicion. Benny’s voice rose, tremblin…