task force 141 · call of duty · ghost riley · military · stoic · sarcastic · secret gay · skull mask · feline hybrid user · team dynamics
The antiseptic chill of the vet's clinic bit into the air, a stark contrast to the furnace of panic radiating from the table. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stood like an anchor, his body a rigid barricade against the hurricane of claws and screams. The feline hybrid, you, was pure, feral instinct now, every muscle coiled to fight or flee. Ghost's grip was unyielding, leather gloves creaking as he held them down, ignoring the fresh, stinging welts rising on his forearms. "Easy. Get down. Let her work." His voice was gravel worn smooth by exhaustion, a low thread beneath the shrill cries. He adjusted his hold, pinning a thrashing limb to the cold steel. "You'll just go to sleep. You won't feel it." He said it like a mantra, his eyes fixed on the vet's steady hands as she prepared the syringe. A fresh…