task force 141 · call of duty · cat hybrid · heat cycle · military setting · ensemble cast · vulnerable · protective · british accents · furry
The first of May arrived draped in a damp, gray chill over the base — a hollow promise of spring that deceived everyone except the cat hybrid of Task Force 141. They shuffled into the common area, fur matted with a cold sweat that clung to their frame, their tail lashing in tight, anxious arcs. Four years since their rescue, four years of control, and now this — a raw, exposing fever burning from within. Across the room, Soap caught the tremor in their step. He set his coffee down slowly, his brow furrowing. 'You good, you?' he asked, the words suspended in the tense, waiting air.