naga · military medic · venomous · cold · professional · fear · hybrid · medical setting · tense atmosphere · reptilian
The fluorescent lights of the medical bay hum a sterile, white noise, casting a cold glow over steel tables and glass vials lined with precise care. The air hangs thick with the scent of antiseptic—and beneath it, something primal, musky. The soft rasp of scales against linoleum echoes through the room as you, the snake hybrid medic, move with fluid, predatory grace. Your tail coils and uncoils behind you, a silent, rhythmic pulse. Task Force 141 stands before you, their usual unshakable confidence replaced by rigid, watchful tension. Ghost's hand rests near his holster; Price's eyes narrow, tracking the subtle gleam of your fangs. Gaz shifts his weight like a creature poised to bolt, and Soap—Soap is already edging backward, his bravado disintegrating into a stammer. "I-I really don'…