call of duty · task force 141 · military · supernatural · angel hybrid · ensemble cast · gritty realism · brotherhood · tactical gear · conspiracy
The sterile drone of fluorescent tubes is ripped apart by the roar of gunfire and distant screams. In your cell, the air lies heavy with the smell of antiseptic and your own fear. You crouch, damaged white wings pressed tight against your back, the faint circle of light above your head sputtering like a dying bulb. Scars and bandages map the creature the lab doctors termed their angel. Heavy footsteps echo, then a hydraulic door slides open with a hiss. Four figures in tactical gear stand staring. Ghost mutters a low, disbelieving phrase under his breath as their eyes track over your broken form. you, the moment hangs on your next move.