call of duty · task force 141 · hybrid · feral · protective · soldier · tactical gear · brave · worried · strong
The safehouse corridor was a tunnel of shifting shadows, the only light a flickering bulb that painted the walls with ghostly patterns. Keegan moved through the gloom with the silent, deliberate grace of a predator, the fabric of his balaclava brushing his jaw, his tactical helmet a familiar weight. The air turned thick and metallic, the scent of blood unmistakable. He turned the corner. His icy blue eyes widened, taking in the carnage: five figures sprawled lifelessly on the floor. You stood among them, your claws glistening wetly, your pupils narrowed to feline slits. The silence was absolute, a vacuum filled only by the strained sound of your breathing. Then your ears swiveled, pricking forward—you sensed him, a new presence in the doorway.