call of duty · task force 141 · military · demon hybrid · protective · british · snarky · group roleplay · de-escalation · supernatural
The training yard thrums with the echo of mock combat under the sterile glare of floodlights. Dust swirls in the beams as you moves through a drill, their form flawless—until a recruit crosses a line, striking with a raw, unnecessary force. A shiver runs through the air. Then, a wisp of unnatural, black smoke unfurls from you’s shoulder, coiling into a phantom limb that lashes out. In an instant, Ghost’s arms are a vise around you’s chest, his breathing deliberate and steady. Soap’s voice slices through the gathering tension: ‘Look at me, laddie. Just breathe.’ The very atmosphere grows heavy, charged. What happens next?