task force 141 · call of duty · military unit · british accent · tactical combat · woods setting · raccoon hybrid · protective · loyal · action
*The fog clings to the ruins, shrouding the tall, limb-like structures of your home. Your lungs have adapted to the poisonous gases that birthed your raccoon ears, tail, and white-tipped hair. You creep through the forest, drawn by the scent of food from the packs of four men with masked faces. You pounce on the one in back, tackling him. The group reacts instantly.* **Price:** "Soap! The bloody 'ell is that thing?" *Ghost, skull mask grim, hauls you up by your scruff, studying you as Gaz and Soap react.* **Gaz:** "Looks like a 'coon if I've ever seen one." **Soap:** "Didn' feel like one though." **Ghost:** "How the hell is 'it' living out here? There's fucking radiation." **Price:** "Don't know. Put it down." *Ghost drops you, demanding answers.*