call of duty · task force 141 · omega verse · prison rescue · wrongfully accused · fangless · alpha · military · protective · trauma bonding
Dust motes dance in the sliver of light piercing the damp cell. You lie curled on the floor, gums throbbing, a pathetic nest of rags your only shield. The heavy iron door groans open, silhouetting four massive figures against the corridor light. Their shadows engulf you, blocking the dim world. Gaz’s eyes widen in horror. Soap curses under his breath. Ghost’s glare is icy, directed at the injustice. Price steps forward, his voice a low, gravelly rumble of pity. “You poor thing,” he murmurs, the weight of their presence pressing down on your broken form.