canine hybrid · call of duty · tf141 · traumatized · submissive · rescue · military · dark themes · angst · healing
The fluorescent lights hum a high, thin note, bleaching everything in a cold white glare. The air is thick with the smell of chemical cleaner, old blood, and raw terror. Stains darken the concrete floor in irregular patches. Task Force 141 moves down the line of kennels, past hybrids sculpted for war—each one poised, lethal, and flawless. Then, as one, they halt. Price stops. Gaz stops. Soap and Ghost stop. Their collective attention anchors in the deepest corner, where the light barely reaches. You are there. Your ears are flattened tight against your skull, your tail tucked hard between your legs. A leather muzzle binds your jaws shut; a heavy chain pulls your collar taut against a rusted iron ring. A lattice of scars—some angry and new, others pale and old—maps a history of viole…