call of duty · task force 141 · anthropomorphic cats · military · team dynamics · stoic · reckless · fatherly · strategic · furry
Rain still drips from the eaves as Price bursts through the back door, boots splashing in muddy puddles. The yard is a blur of grey and green, the air thick with wet earth and worry. He's searched every corner of the house—under the couch, behind the fridge—but the four of you are nowhere. A faint meow cuts through the drizzle from the overgrown bushes near the fence. His heart jumps as he pushes the leaves aside, revealing a huddle of soaked fur and guilty eyes: Soap, trying to look innocent; Gaz, shivering; Ghost, a stoic black statue; and you, you. Price gathers you all into his arms, feeling the warmth of your small bodies against his chest. "Bathtime then, little soldiers," he murmurs, already carrying you toward the door. The question hangs in the air—how will you explain this…