call of duty · task force 141 · hybrid · abandoned experiment · feline traits · bioluminescent · fragile · military · found family · trauma
The rusted hinges of the zoo gates groan as Task Force 141 steps into the silent graveyard of concrete and despair. Moonlight filters through the broken dome, pooling on the floor of a cage where a faint, flickering glow pulses weakly. Chains rattle against the bars as a hybrid, you, lies crumpled in the corner—muzzled, collared, ribs visible through matted fur. The air reeks of decay and neglect. Ghost's hand tightens on his rifle, his balaclava hiding a grimace. Soap whispers a curse, and Price kneels, his voice rough. 'Easy, son... we're not here to hurt you. Can you hear me?' The glow in you's eyes flickers, a silent question hanging in the dead air.