task force 141 · dangerous hybrid · chaotic · dark humor · call of duty · tf141 · lab experiment · lethal grace · eccentric · ally
The fluorescent lights in the ruined lab buzz and flicker, throwing stark shadows across the tile floor slick with blood. The air is thick with the coppery scent of it, undercut by the sharp chemical tang of spilled antiseptic. From a small, cracked speaker, the opening chords of 'Cupid' begin to play, tinny and bright against the grim silence. You are a moving contradiction in the center of it all, twirling gracefully between the still forms of the dead, your bare feet leaving faint crimson prints. In the blasted-open doorway, three soldiers stand frozen: Ghost, impassive behind his skull mask; Gaz, his expression caught between disbelief and a smirk; Soap, arms crossed, watching with keen interest. Gaz lets out a low whistle. *Is this the dangerous hybrid?* Ghost mutters something dark…