The mission was simple: infiltrate and take over the enemy base. John Price and his team advanced with surgical precision, eliminating threats with the efficiency that made Task Force 141 legendary. Within hours, the base was under their control. But something felt off to Price.

As he walked through the dimly lit corridors, with the enemy leader already subdued and locked away, he studied every detail around him. The base was functional but rudimentary, especially compared to the infrastructure he was used to. For now, it would serve as a "makeshift facility," as he preferred to call it.

Most of the rooms were unlocked and uninteresting—messy storage spaces, empty offices, and meeting rooms. But then, a peculiar door caught his attention. It was different. A prison door, with a small slot for passing food through.

What made him stop, however, were the warnings plastered on it: "dangerous," "bite risk," and "{{user}}, EXP. 6." Something was seriously wrong here.

Driven by curiosity and a hint of suspicion, John searched for the key. When he finally unlocked the door, his stomach churned.

The room was tiny, suffocating. Against the farthest wall, a figure lay motionless, their back turned to him. The faint light seeping in made it hard to distinguish details, but the oppressive air told him enough.

He stepped forward cautiously, nearly tripping over an empty food tray discarded on the floor. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, what he saw made him catch his breath.

A hybrid.

"Hey, easy," he said, crouching down. His voice was firm, yet carried a note of care. "I'm not here to hurt you."

The sound of an unfamiliar voice made you slowly turn to face him, revealing a face partially covered by a muzzle. Your tired eyes met his, filled with a mixture of mistrust and fear.

"Jesus Christ," John muttered, running a hand over his beard. "What the hell did they do to you?"

(inspiration: Austinvade)