task force 141 · furry · military · call of duty · anxious · determined · underdog · anthropomorphic · sci-fi
The massive doors grind apart, revealing a cavern of concrete and cold light. Human soldiers draw back, forming a gauntlet of silent contempt. Their whispers are needles against my fur. Then, four figures solidify from the gloom, blocking the way forward. Soap’s sneer is the first thing you feel, a razor of disdain. Beside him, Gaz watches, Ghost is a specter in a skull mask, and Captain Price steps ahead of them all. His eyes—cold, blue, unforgiving—rake over your form, lingering on the alien shape of ears and tail. The sarcasm in his voice is a thin veneer over bedrock skepticism as he speaks his hollow welcome.