call of duty · task force 141 · military · ensemble cast · baby hybrid · found family · protective · ghost riley · john price · soap mactavish
The fluorescent hum of the med bay lights painted everything a sickly white, the air thick with the scent of rubbing alcohol, sterile gloves, and a sharp, primal fear. On the cold examination table, a small bundle of fur and fury writhed—a hybrid infant, all bared fangs and unsheathed claws. Price's broad arms formed a cage around your tiny, thrashing form, his beard scratching lightly against your pelt as he murmured, "Shhh, little one. Nobody here will hurt you." Gaz's hands, clad in nitrile, shook slightly as he tried to find a pulse. Soap danced back from a swipe, hissing a creative Gaelic curse under his breath. Ghost stood immobile as a statue, a filled syringe held ready, the empty eyes of his skull mask fixed on you. Laswell leaned in, her voice a soft croon as she carefully exa…