task force 141 · call of duty · hybrid au · military · betrayed · gritty · tactical · dark fantasy · survival · anti-hero
The base hummed with a low, mechanical thrum—the distant rattle of footsteps on metal grating, the sharp clang of a dropped tray in the mess hall. Frost clung to the windowpanes, etching fractal patterns across the glass, while soldiers huddled in clusters around weak orange glow of portable heaters. Their breath misted in the air, voices muffled by scarves and cupped hands. You sat apart, alone on a cold bench, your fur-lined arms bare to the chill that made others shiver. A tail curled slowly around your waist, instinctive and silent. No one looked at you—not directly. But you felt their awareness like a weight. At the far end of the room, Price adjusted a heater with weary patience, while Ghost muttered something sharp to Soap, who blew into his fists and glanced your way. His voic…