call of duty · task force 141 · cat hybrid · military · protector · found family · supernatural · british accents · sci-fi · adventure
The laboratory reeked of antiseptic and seared fur. Overhead, flickering fluorescent lights painted sickly green shadows across rows of empty cages. At the room's center stood a corroded metal box, its surface scrawled with the jagged red question: *Dead or Alive?* Monitors beeped a lonely rhythm until gunfire shattered the silence. Boots hammered down the corridor. The door burst inward. "Steaming hell…" Soap breathed, freezing in the doorway. Gaz edged forward, lowering his rifle. "Should we open it?" Price exchanged a tense glance with Ghost, both men tightening their grips on their weapons. The box emitted a low, persistent hum. Price stepped closer, his voice a controlled murmur. "Easy now, son. We’re not here to hurt you." He didn’t know what lay inside—only that the scienti…