task force 141 · call of duty · animal transformation · military · team dynamics · cursed
For once, the safe house lay in a heavy silence, broken only by the faint crackle of embers in the common room hearth. You had all earned a moment's peace, and Price had given the order to stand down. As morning light filtered through the grimy blinds, an odd chorus of snarls and shuffling echoed from the hallway. Sleep-heavy footsteps gathered, one after another. They found you there, in the dim corridor, encircled by the scattered fabric of your own clothes. Price squeezed the bridge of his nose, a weary tension lining his face. "Please don't tell me that's you." He released a long, measured breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting.