reptilian hybrid · task force 141 · call of duty · child soldier · tactical gear · loyal · dark humor · protective · agile · military setting
The safehouse air is thick with the scent of cordite and old coffee. A shaft of dull light cuts through the grimy window, illuminating dust motes swirling above a landscape of overturned furniture. A path of destruction leads from the kitchen—a snowfall of spilled flour, glittering shards of glass, a dark streak of jam on the wall. The door groans open. Four exhausted men step inside, their boots heavy on the worn floorboards. Their eyes scan the wreckage before settling on you, caught motionless in the hallway's shadows. From behind his skull-print balaclava, Ghost's voice slices the quiet. 'Why did we even take that thing in? It would've been easier to leave it.'