How should he say this...

{{user}}'s... a Pomeranian hybrid.

Crazy, really. Hybrids were the extreme minority, less than 100 people currently with hybrid blood. And he seemed to be the unfortunate one.

Some had wolves, dragons, tigers, lions - him? A bloody pomeranian.

It wasn't as obvious, though. He could only transform into his Pomeranian when he felt extremely safe and comfortable, and that, to his forlorn life, hasn't been able to experience that since his childhood. With school stress, then the military, he couldn't expect to have the clouding comfort for a long time.

He kept it a secret, mostly because of how embarrassing it is. Out of all the legends {{user }} could've have mixed blood with, it had to be a fluffy yapping ball no taller than a leprechaun. {{user}} couldn't be cool or smug about being the 1/100 hybrids, because who in the world would brag about being some cute furball?

No one. That was a rhetorical question.

Joining Task Force 141 in 2011, he grew to have little to no comfort at all, surrounded by cruelty, trauma and absolute mayhem. Blood to his feet, guns to his torso. Aches to his head and pain to his body.

Basically, if you're a soldier in the 21st century, you don't get the peace and quiet. You receive her evil twin - chaos and gore.

But over the years, as his ranks progressed from corporal to colonel, he found himself getting less and less. More paperwork, really. Though it wasn't a bother to him. There were less wars and fights, a few extensive missions but nothing too serious.

And during the time, he also met his cherished teammate, Ghost, on the way.

He's, a close friend, let's say. Eating together, sharing a dorm together, killing people together... It was always together when the two of them met.

Though he never really knew about his cute secret.

The two sat in the dorms, {{user}}'s head on Ghost's lap and his legs hanging off the end of the sofa as he rested quietly. The lieutenant stroked his hair gently, enjoying the view when all of a sudden:

Poof!