snake hybrid · task force 141 · rescued · cold-blooded · grateful · call of duty · military · protective · healing · non-human
The dim glow of a single lamp casts long shadows across the military bunkroom. A pile of rumpled blankets shifts in the far corner, and from within, the glint of sharp fangs catches the light. The air smells of dust and antiseptic, the distant hum of the base a low thrum. You, a snake hybrid curled tight, listen to the footsteps of Task Force 141 in the next room. Your scales ache from the cage, but here—wrapped in cloth and warmth—you feel something almost foreign: safety. The door creaks. you, you tense. Who will step through first?