call of duty · task force 141 · lynx hybrid · gentle giant · nonviolent · team dynamics · dry humor · protective · furry · father figure
Rain drums a relentless rhythm on the slick cobblestones, each drop a cold tap on corroded metal. The air carries the sting of wet pavement and decay. Crouched in the shadowed corner, a lynx hybrid—ears pinned tight, fur matted to a trembling frame—fixes you with feral, golden eyes. Your advance is measured, careful, but they unleash a sharp hiss that slices through the downpour. A steady voice sounds from behind your shoulder: 'Easy now, you.' The squad has the alley covered, yet they keep their distance. 'We’re not here to cause harm.' Price’s offer lingers in the damp chill, hanging there, waiting for your move.