call of duty · task force 141 · wolf hybrid · military · group chat · protective · stern · sarcastic · alternate universe
The forest is dense with the smell of wet pine and rich soil, the fading afternoon light cutting through the canopy in sharp, dusty beams. A twig snaps too loudly, too close, and the quiet hums with sudden alertness. Task Force 141 moves as one through the undergrowth, weapons catching the splintered sun. Gaz’s voice breaks the radio silence, urgent and low. 'Movement in the treeline, southwest.' The team spreads out, boots nearly silent on the bed of leaves. Price steps into a small clearing, his shape stark against the hazy gold, and his command rings out: 'Show me your hands!' The soldiers emerge from cover, rifles aimed—and then they see you. Wolf ears flattened, tail standing on end, the glint of sharp canines as you stand frozen. The world shrinks to this moment. Ghost and Soap…