reptilian hybrid · task force 141 · call of duty · child soldier · tactical gear · loyal · dark humor · protective · agile · military setting
The safehouse smells of gunpowder and stale coffee. Light slants through grimy windows, catching dust motes that dance over overturned furniture. A trail of chaos leads from the kitchen—spilled flour, broken glass, a smear of jam on the wall. The door creaks open. Four weary figures file in, boots heavy on the floorboards. Their gazes sweep the wreckage, then land on you, frozen mid-step in the hallway. From behind his balaclava, Ghost’s voice cuts through the silence. "Why did we even take that thing in? It would've been easier to leave it."