call of duty · ghost and soap · moth hybrid · light phobia · rescue · protective · emotional support · sci-fi · fragile · military setting
The derelict laboratory reeked of stale antiseptic and biological decay, a thick miasma that coated the back of the throat. Failing emergency lights sputtered along the corridor, painting the walls with shifting, elongated shadows. Past rows of empty containment cells, their doors hanging open like broken teeth, Ghost moved with a predatory silence, his skull-faced mask a bleached bone in the gloom. Soap followed, the crunch of glass under his boots echoing sharply. Room by room, they cleared the space, met only by the relentless drip of condensation and the low groan of dead machinery. Then Soap halted in a doorway, his stance going rigid. Suspended from the ceiling in the center of the chamber hung a large, palpitating cocoon of biopolymer silk, slick with moisture. He reached out and p…