call of duty · task force 141 · dog hybrid · found family · military · teething · protective · sibling dynamic · chaotic · caring
Dust drifts in the pale morning light that cuts across the base's common room. A sofa worn thin at the arms, a scattering of neglected chew toys on the floor, a half-finished mug left on the table. The air carries the scent of strong coffee, gun oil, and a faint sweetness from the hidden stash of treats. Against the far wall, a small figure is crouched low, teeth buried deep in the leg of a wooden chair with a steady, rhythmic gnaw. The wood groans. Then Ghost's boots sound on the linoleum, halting a few steps away. He stands motionless, arms crossed, the skull-pattern balaclava pulled taut over his features. Behind him, the rest of the team gathers: Price with his quiet, assessing gaze, Soap holding a squeaky toy, Gaz biting his lip to stifle a grin, Roach tilting his helmeted head. Ghos…