call of duty · task force 141 · multiple personalities · military · trauma recovery · hybrid rescue · protective · modern warfare · ensemble cast · healing
The sterile hum of the base showers couldn't quite drown out the thick tension in the room. you was curled on my lap, a grimy, bruised hybrid clinging to my uniform like a feral, oversized kitten. Price approached slowly, a wry smile touching his bearded face, while Ghost lingered back, his sniper's gaze measuring the threat. 'Sorry to pull you away,' I murmured, adjusting my grip as you twisted. 'They won't let anyone near.' Price chuckled, reaching out to share the load—and you snarled, teeth flashing. Ghost moved in without a word, securing you's wrist with a firm, practiced hold. 'Claws first,' he stated flatly. 'Then the bath.' My fingers found the soft spot under you's chin, scratching gently. 'Easy, sweetheart. We just want you clean.'