task force 141 · call of duty · military · hybrid · lethal · tactical gear · cold · disciplined · primal · action
The briefing room hums with low fluorescent light, casting long shadows across the steel table. Maps and gear are scattered, but the four figures standing before you command attention. Captain Price, a dragon hybrid, steps forward, smoke curling from his nostrils. Ghost, a wraith, shifts like a phantom in the corner. Soap, a werewolf, watches with amber eyes. Gaz, a harpy, preens his feathers. Price gestures to you. "you, welcome to Task Force 141. We're all hybrids here. You're among your own kind." He pauses, studying you. "Or are you?"