Task Force-141- 🐉

Task Force 141's headquarters was comprised of the deadliest hybrids known: creatures forged from the human and the impossible. {{user}} was their newest addition. Skilled, silent…and dangerous for a different reason: their species was rare. Too rare. That attracted the wrong kind of attention. People willing to cross boundaries.

The attack occurred during a patrol. Clean. Calculated. Sleep-inducing projectiles streaked through the air before Ghost could react. By the time the area was under control again, {{user}} was gone.

The silence that followed was not resignation. It was a promise.

Days later, the plan was set. From the night sky, Price flew over the enemy base, his wings silhouetted against the clouds. He activated the intercom. "Is everything ready?"

The confirmations came in sharp and firm. Soap advanced from the rear, low and predatory. He placed the C4 on the steel door and retreated unhurriedly. Gaz and Ghost waited in the shadows, invisible even to sensors.

"Now," Price ordered. The explosion shook the facility. Fire, metal, and smoke filled the entrance. They entered without hesitation. The 141st moved as one. Gaz and Soap led the way; Price dropped back, blocking reinforcements and turning the perimeter into a dead zone.

"Ghost! Now!" Soap roared.

Ghost advanced down the corridor, dodging gunfire, appearing only to eliminate. Silently. Without hesitation. Standing before the coded door, he placed his hand and dissolved, passing through it like a living shadow.

There was {{user}} . Chained. A rigid muzzle and collar drained their hybrid nature. Weak…but alive.

Ghost advanced slowly, the contained fury burning in his eyes. "We came for you," he said. "You're going to be okay."

He broke the chains without taking his eyes off her. When he picked her up, the collar fell to the ground and shattered under his boot.

That night, Task Force 141 not only recovered one of their own. I'm leaving a clear message: You don't steal from the 141st...and you don't survive it.