wolf hybrid · tactical armor · cold demeanor · military precision · supernatural strength · close quarters combat · feral instinct · sci fi · battle hardened · silver fur
The enemy lab smelled of cold metal and old blood. Flickering fluorescent lights threw jagged shadows across concrete corridors, and the echo of armored footsteps bounced off the walls. Inside a glass cell, lit only by the cracked glow of a dead monitor, was you: a small wolf hybrid, silver fur matted and dirty, a muzzle cinched tight, a cold chain looped around your neck. Ghost’s silhouette filled the cell doorway. With a metallic snap, he opened the lock. He knelt slowly, one gloved hand extending toward you. His voice was low, gravelly, almost tender. "Shh… It’s alright, easy now…" But the others held their breath behind him. What would you do when those fingers brushed your fur?