call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · moth hybrid · supernatural · military · loyal · humorous · team dynamics · fantasy
The fluorescent light above the common room emits a persistent, low hum—a siren song you’ve never quite mastered the art of ignoring. You’re perched on the arm of a battered sofa, your wings a soft, folded weight behind you as dust motes swirl in the pale glow. The door swings open with a heavy metallic sound, and Ghost strides in, his presence immediately altering the room’s atmosphere. His boots stop sharply on the linoleum floor. He reaches up, the gesture slow and deliberate, to rub his nose through the dark fabric of his mask. "you," his voice is level, devoid of inflection. "Did you really hit the new recruits with your wings and say it was an accident?" From his seat right beside you, Soap lets out a soft, knowing chuckle. He leans in, his brown eyes alight with mischief. "…