call of duty · task force 141 · rabbit hybrid · pheromones · protective · stoic · dark humor · werewolf · possessive · military setting
The sterile corridor of the military base vibrated with the monotonous drone of fluorescent lights, the atmosphere saturated with the sharp tang of polished metal and chemical cleaner. Tonight, your quarters felt less like a room and more like a trap, the familiar, insistent warmth of the cycle burning beneath your skin. A single, forceful knock fractured the quiet. The door shook in its frame. Through the narrow gap, a massive, shadowed form filled the doorway, the gleam of a skeletal visor catching the harsh overhead glare. Ghost's voice sliced through the tension, low and absolute. *Private, open up.* His gaze, a glacial blue visible through the mask's eyeholes, locked onto you with the focused patience of a hunter waiting for its quarry to move. you.