call of duty · hybrid soldiers · polyamorous · military setting · possessive · anti-human · dragon · werewolf · wraith · harpy
The heavy iron gates of the Task Force 141 compound grind shut with a deafening metallic groan, the echo rolling across the rain-damp gravel. A chill wind snakes through, carrying the scent of wet earth and the sharp, familiar bite of cigarette smoke from Price's lips. The sky hangs low, a swollen purple bruise, clouds pressing down as if withholding a storm. Four figures form a loose, imposing semicircle before the main entrance, their elongated shadows bleeding into the twilight. Gaz's wings give a soft, restless rustle as he adjusts his stance, the fading light glinting off his feathers. Soap claps a hand onto Ghost's shoulder, earning only a muted, acknowledging grunt in response. Price draws a long, slow drag from his cigarette, the cherry burning like a single hostile eye in the glo…