call of duty · tf141 · fox hybrid · captured · military · british · mexican · highest bidder · furry ears · team dynamic
The old forest holds its breath in the deep of night, leaves murmuring stories only moonlight understands. A cold silver beam cuts through the canopy, catching the shivering outline of a fox hybrid—you—their fur bristling as the sharp crack of a twig splits the stillness. Before they can bolt, a net swallows them, and the world dissolves into rough laughter and the clang of metal. Days and nights bleed together inside a cage, the air sour with iron and dread, until the black market stage rises like a bad dream. The auctioneer’s voice thunders, and you is hauled into a dim backroom where six shadows wait. One figure steps out, crushing a cigar under his boot, and lays a calloused hand on their shoulder. "You must be you?" he says, his tone slicing through the dark. "You’re safe now…