#monster handler!cod

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Break Down Build Up

König is such a little shit. I love him, but monster hybrid!König is a beast to wrangle in, even as a writer! I never know how to get him to sit still. At least Handler finally found a way to get him to stay put long enough to help him moult!

Tws: None

Wordcount: 851

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

Break Down Build Up

You’d never had too many thoughts about how important May was to you. Sure, there were some special days, but it wasn’t that valuable. It was just another month in the year, after all. How could May be of any great importance?

That was what you tended to think up until König came along. Since becoming König’s handler, May had quickly become your least favorite month of the year.

“Sit still!” you grumbled, trying to balance yourself in the middle of König’s great black wing without tugging on his feathers, “you’ve got a couple of pin feathers here that are ready to come in.”

König whined and shuffled uncomfortably. You tried to avoid gripping his feathers as you were jostled side to side.

“You don’t want me tugging on your feathers, do you?” you snapped as you managed to catch your balance again.

“Boring,” König croaked.

“Boring?” you rolled your eyes, “yeah of course it’s boring. It’s not like I’m having a fun time here either.”

“Boring,” König repeated.

The monster rolled you off his wings with a disgruntled caw.

You faceplanted onto the foam floor, rolling into a full somersault before sprawling akimbo on the floor. With a grunt, you managed to scrabble to your feet and gather your bearings. You glared at König, who seemed to be more than happy to take things into his own claws by flipping onto his back and rolling side to side. Today was May fifth. You had a whole month of this. You didn’t know what you were doing with yourself. You thanked the heavens again that your superiors wouldn’t be seeing you floundering with König. You had a couple of months until König was set to be deployed, at least.

As you watched König squirm like a mirthful puppy on the matts, you couldn’t help but wonder again how this was KorTac’s prized war machine. How did they manage to keep him still enough to listen to a command? Better yet, how did they manage to wrangle him into following a command!? You were completely beside yourself by this point. You couldn’t even manage to get König to so much as sit still to be preened.

Your hands fell to your sides as you tried to understand what you were doing wrong. König obliviously wormed across the floor, leaving a trail of white keratin in his wake. You’d have to mop that up when König was finished. Well, considering what sort of diseases he carried you’d have to scrub the gym anyways. It was your responsibility to mitigate the amount of potential contaminants that could be transmitted to other soldiers. You’d signed up for this, quite literally. You still wished you could burn the place down rather than have to try and clean it.

König skittered off to rub against a tall pillar to try and rid himself of the unholy itch that was surely driving him wild.

“If you just let me help…” you muttered under your breath as you strode over to him.

König swatted you away with his tail.

“Excuse me!?” you scoffed as you stumbled back, “did you just push me?”

“Must move,” König cawed, “moving helps.”

You sighed and relented. There wasn’t much you could do, was there? How were you supposed to get something the length of one and a half school busses to sit still? If König wanted to move, there was nothing you could do to get him to rest.

Or… Maybe you could…

Your eyes snapped open as realization dawned on you.

“Hey König?” you called to the big shifter.

König stopped rubbing his back against the pillar to look at you.

“Can you stay right here? I just need to get something from the back.”

König cawed and went back to rubbing his back. Well, if that kept him occupied, so be it.

You left König to his own devices with a little nod. As you rushed down the halls, you just hoped he’d stay put long enough for you to go and grab some puzzles you found from the common room.

When you’d managed to grab a couple and head back to the gym, König was back to wriggling to and fro on his back. You whistled and bounded over to him.

“König!” you held up a couple of puzzles, “I found something for you to do!”

König rolled onto his front to get a better look at you. He glanced between the boxes and cawed. He slithered to your side before letting himself drop flat onto his belly. He lay his head down on the ground and glanced up at you like a moping hound dog.

“Okay, so, how long do you think it’ll take you to finish these puzzles?” you asked as you put the jigsaw puzzles on the ground in front of him.

“Small,” he grumbled, “hard work.”

“So you think at least half an hour?” you asked hopefully.

“Longer,” König huffed, “small.”

You grinned to yourself as König spread out his wings to let you on. It seemed you finally had a way to keep König occupied.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 9 - Pneumothorax

Slasher Handler Masterlist

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Accidental injury with knife, descriptions of wounds, wound care, field medicine, allusions/symptoms of lung collapse, blood, ingestion of bodily fluids, gagging

Something your nightmares have never been able to truly capture is just how unnervingly easy it is to push a knife through flesh. The smallest knife cuts through Simon’s skin easier than the MRE packaging. Something dangerous flickers behind his eyes as he looks down at where you’ve pushed the knife into the side of his chest.

Everything is eerily still for a moment. And then he looks back up at you and grins so hard you can tell through the mask.

The knife slips from between your numb fingers. It stays lodged between his ribs for a moment before falling to the ground. You scramble to your feet to stand over his still kneeling form. “Oh god. Simon.”

The way you’d slipped and rolled must have put the knife exactly where it needed to be to slide around his vest. His shirt underneath is ripped enough that you can see pale skin and so much red blood. The wound is bubbling, blood thinning in the cold rain. “Oh, god, Simon, what do I do?”

“Punctured a lung,” he whispers, barely a breath.

“You need a doctor,” you say, and it feels stupid, so obvious, but, “I don’t know where we are. How am I supposed to call for help?”

“’M okay, Precious,” he grunts. And then he stands up, like he’s not at risk of lung collapse. He points at the muddy backpack that flew from your shoulder as you’d grappled with him. “Get the bag.”

The bag? “We’re not playing games anymore!”

“’S got medical supplies in it,” Simon answers. He crouches down to pick up his own pack, and his chest makes a wet sound. “’N another gift for you. C’mon, we’ll go back to the cabin.”

Your heart is in your throat, but at least the cabin has running water. With the medical supplies, you can at least try to clean him up before driving him to the nearest hospital. Wherever that might be. You prop his arm over your shoulder and do your best to brace his good side.“Okay. Okay, let’s go.”

As you start to walk, the edge of the roof is barely in view through the drizzle. You’re so glad you were already on your way back to the cabin when he’d tackled you. Why did you have the knife out? You’d been playing with it, cutting shapes into a big leaf. He should have seen it, he’d run at you from the side. But that’s why he got you something so small, right? So someone attacking you wouldn’t see it, so you could have the element of surprise.

“Call Price,” Simon says, suddenly, knocking you out of your worried spiral.

You look up at him, then at the cabin that’s barely ten meters away. “What?”

“Use my phone. You know the code,” he says again, “Call Price, tell him we’re at the empty north cabin.”

Before you can ask “What?” again, or even, “Who the hell is Price?”, he starts slumping into you. And then all 18 stones of him are in a semi-controlled fall. You try your best to not drop him, gasp when he hisses as your arm presses against the hole in his chest.

The only thing in your head, as Simon slumps into the mud, his blood all over your hands, is that the weather didn't hold out the way you both expected.

Simon’s phone isn’t on him, or in his little knapsack. It’s one of the scariest things you’ve ever done, leaving him there in the dirt to run into the cabin. At the same time, it’s… familiar. Leaving a man to die while you call for help that can’t possibly arrive in time.

This is different. The first time you’d stabbed a man, you’d meant to do it.

The cabin is a little abandoned thing that Simon had fixed up a bit in the middle of nowhere. Outside of the room you’d woken up in, it has a wet room style toilet and shower and a counter with a hot plate. The rest of the weirdly clean little building is just one empty room leading to the only external door.

You hand shakes as you paw through the pile of stuff in one corner of the main room. Simon’s left his battered old phone in the pocket of his jeans, like he always does. Your hands shake as you punch in his passcode. You’re jogging back to his side as soon as you select the only named contact in the phone.

By the time someone picks up, you’re back on your knees by Simon’s side, relieved to see his eyes fluttering.

“Price,” a man answers.

“Hello?” You try not to let your voice get to frantic. “Simon’s hurt. He said to call you. We’re at the north cabin.”

“Empty,” Simon grunts, barely audible.

“The empty one,” you clarify. The line is silent. “Hello?”

“He’s wounded?” Price asks, cool and almost distracted.

“Punctured lung,” you say. “He passed out, but he’s kind of conscious now.”

The man on the other end hums. “That does sound a bit serious.”

“Please,” you insist. “I don’t know where we are, please call an ambulance.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” And then the line goes dead.

Your hands are shaking when you touch Simon’s face. “He hung up. Simon, I’m so sorry, he hung up. I don’t know if I can get you into the car. I don’t know if there’s enough time for anyone to get here.”

“’S fine, Precious,” he says, barely a whisper. He looks just as peaceful as if he was at home, in bed. The mud and blood and burbling chest wound ruin the illusion. “Been in worse shape’n this. Price’ll come.”

“We don’t need him here, we need you in a hospital!” It suddenly strikes you that Simon had mentioned medical supplies. “Should I try to stop the bleeding? Gauze and pressure, right?” You grab the backpack and tear it open. There’s gauze, antiseptic gel, and bandage wraps. You also find a small bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Splash of alcohol first,” Simon says, closing his eyes. When you slap him, he glares up at you with one eye. “Oi.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me!”

“’M no’. Just restin’ m’eyes.”

“Not that either!” The way his accent is becoming more pronounced, and his words more slurred, sets your already galloping heart racing. You uncap the alcohol and tip it, not at all gently, over the wound. “Stay awake.”

“Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell,” Simon growls, followed by a pained wheeze. “Okay. Fuck. Gauze next, you’ll have to hold it down. Don’t have enough bandages and too much mud, besides.”

The first piece of gauze gets soaked with rain and blood immediately, so you open another couple of packages and press. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you tell him over his hissing. Tears finally start catching up to you. “Simon, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Simon.”

“’S fine,” he sighs. One big, muddy hand comes up to pat your shoulder. “Shouldn’a come at you from the left. Better t’ stay low and come at you from the right.”

“I still might have stabbed you,” you protest. “I shouldn’t have had that stupid knife out, I should have known better-”

“You couldn’a known.”

“I should have,” you insist, and the tears are falling even faster now. “I didn’t need to be playing with knives, I knew you were out here, that you’d start chasing me any moment.”

“’S part of the game,” Simon sighs with a lazy grin. “Weren’ supposed t’ stab me in the chest, but tha’s on me.”

“I wasn’t supposed to stab you at all, Simon,” you sob. “I never wanted…! I don’t…!” Simon’s eyes flutter closed again, and you feel your heart break. “Simon, please, stay awake. I’m sorry. Please, Simon. I don’t hate you, I’m sorry.”

You're not sure how much time passes. But you jump when a hand touches your shoulder, whip around to put yourself between Simon and whoever’s come up behind you. A white man with a beard you would absolutely expect to see walking around in the woods looks between you and Simon with raised brows. He brings a cigar to his lips and takes a pull.

“Simon,” the man says. “You broken?”

“No, sir,” Simon says. When your gaze snaps to him, his eyes are bright behind his mask.

“She said you punctured a lung,” the man you can only assume is Price points out.

“Affirmative.”

“John Price,” he finally introduces himself. He offers you a hand up. When you look between his hand and where you’re keeping pressure on Simon’s wound, he chuckles. “Let’s get this drama queen inside, shall we?” Then Kyle appears at his elbow with a grin and an arm full of blue tarp.

“How’s the hobby search going?”

You can’t stop yourself from bursting into tears.

John Price had guided you inside while Kyle somehow maneuvered Simon onto the tarp to drag him the last few meters to the cabin. Now, there’s another tarp laid out on the floor, with Simon’s clammy, pale body on top of it. Knelt next to him, Kyle mutters something to himself, focused but relaxed. He’d complimented you on a clean strike, once he’d gotten Simon inside and cleaned the wound enough to look at it. Apparently, you probably could have done a lot of damage before killing him outright, if you’d really wanted to.

The sucking sound from Simon’s chest as he chuckled had made you run outside to throw up.

“You meet my girl, Skipper?” Simon eventually wheezes. There’s a big patch of of gauze taped over the wound. That side of him, from shoulder to hip, is the only part of him that’s really clean, besides his now-unmasked face. He winces when Kyle does something with the tubing sticking out of his chest. It’s still trickling blood, but that seems to be better than the flood from when Kyle had first pushed a thick needle between his ribs.

“I have,” John Price says, blowing a cloud of smoke. “You haven’t been keeping her here long. Surprised she stuck around to make sure you’d be okay.”

It strikes your ears as… absurd. The idea that Simon had whisked you away to this tiny, sparse little building for, what? For good? Nonsensically, you want to point out that there’s no kitchen, and Simon knows you like to prep and cook when you’re stressed. MREs wouldn’t cut it for long.

And then it occurs to you that John Price knows Simon. Knows him well enough that he expects you to die.

“She’s had Riley here on a leash for half a year,” Kyle informs him. He pats Simon’s cheek condescendingly, ignores his growl of annoyance. “Poor bastard’d been going mad, cooped up with nothing to do since Soap’s been locked up.”

“Eight months,” you whisper. You’re sitting on the edge of the tarp by Simon’s good side. You sip some water and offer it to Simon. He lets you tip the bottle carefully to his lips. “We met eight months ago.”

“Christ,” Price says, rolling his eyes. “I told you to keep a low profile.”

“’ave been,” Simon grunts.

“And, that little excursion at the ski lodge was what, exactly?”

Simon tilts his head to look at you, mischievous smirk under the black makeup around his eyes. “Had to make sure our first date was memorable.”

You want to smack him. The thought makes you feel guilty since you’ve already stabbed him today. You compromise by petting through his hair, right where the scar you gave him sits, then give his ear a little tug when you get to it.

“Hope it was worth it,” Price says. “You going to get rid of her, or am I?”

Simon is up and standing in front of John almost before you see him move. The back of him is still spattered with dirt and blood, silvery scars in stark contrast. You watch his chest expand, hear the whistle and bubble of air and blood through the tube you can’t see. You take one look at Kyle’s startled, worried face and quickly get to your feet.

When you come around his side, you shiver and shrink back a bit. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Simon’s face this frigid. He’s completely closed off as he stares down at Price, doesn’t even spare you a glance.

For his part, John remains completely relaxed. He takes a lazy pull from his cigar and blows the smoke from the side of his mouth, away from you. “Touched a nerve, have I?”

“She’s good people,” Kyle pipes up, coming to stand across from you, so everyone is in a loose square. He keeps his hands in his pockets. “Hasn’t made no trouble yet.”

John doesn’t look away from Simon. “That so?”

You reach out for Simon’s hand, then think better of it. You touch his back instead, in case he needs that hand. You step closer but stay a little bit behind him. “Simon?”

“She’s talked to the police, you know,” John says. “After your stint at the hospital, and again after your little date.”

That startles you. “I never-”

“Hush, now,” John says.

Simon flinches at the same moment that you feel your back straighten. “Excuse me?” You take a step forward into John’s space. “Maybe you forgot, but I called you here to help. If I wanted him dead, Simon would be dead right now. If I wanted him arrested six months ago, he’d have been arrested.”

“Precious-”

“No, Simon.” you interrupt him, staring into John’s eyes. “He practically lives in my apartment. He drugged and kidnapped me literally last night. He made me touch Brandon’s skull, and then I stabbed him this afternoon. I’ve been at the scene of two mass murders and now I’ve almost killed someone else. What the fuck makes you think you can come in here and talk about me like you know anything about me? Like you think I’m an idiot? Why do you think you get to shush me?”

The man doesn’t react except to pull from his cigar again. Your clothes are stiff and damp and uncomfortable, but you resist the urge to fidget. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Kyle look from you to John and back again.

“If you ever have him arrested, he’ll be out in a day,” John finally says. “You’ll be dead before then.”

“Oh gee,” you mock. “I wonder why that never occurred to me. Making the serial killer angry might get me killed. Shocking.”

Simon’s hand gently touches one of your wrists. “Easy, Precious. Price ‘s just lookin’ out.”

You let him take your hand. “He can do less of that, thank you very much.”

Simon reels you back against his front. He props his chin on top of your head and kind of sags some of his weight onto you. “Don’t think he can, love. Fundamentally incapable. Has to take care of his men.”

“Well he’s my man, now,” you grit out. “So you can fuck right off, John.”

For whatever reason, that cuts the tension. Kyle barks a laugh before he can stop himself. John tips his head back and huffs out smoke. Simon just presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Kyle told me you were a little off,” John says. He props a foot on his knee to stub out his cigar on the sole of his boot. “Simon’s been real tight lipped, but I see why he likes you. Not much self-preservation to speak of.”

Of all the stupid conclusions he could have come to…!

Simon’s hand covers your mouth before you can tell John exactly what you think of him. “She’s helping me find new hobbies.”

John just shakes his head. “I don’t want to know. Kyle, how long is he recovering?”

“Three weeks. Two, if he avoids aggravating it,” Kyle answers.

Simon hums. “’M gonna aggravate it.”

“Goddammit,” John swipes a hand down his beard. “Soap’s supposed to be my troublemaker, not you.”

The murderous stalker isn’t the problem child? You snort behind Simon’s hand. Hopefully, you never meet this Soap guy.

“Fun as all of this is, I’m on shift in four hours,” Kyle says, looking at his watch. “Need to get home and sanitize. Riley, usual wound care. Drain’s gotta come out in three days. And you need antibiotics. Seriously.” He looks at you. “Make sure he gets them and takes them. All of them. His feet will fall off.”

“No they won’t,” you say when Simon drops his hand to wrap around your shoulders, just as he says, “Fuck off, Garrick.”

“Take the damn antibiotics,” John says, standing from his seat. “Be ready for a call in three weeks.”

“Affirmative.”

“And you,” John holds a hand out to you to shake. Waits for you to take it and gives a firm shake. “Let me know if you get tired of him hangin’ all over you.”

“So you can kill me.”

He gives you an amused grin. “I’m not in the practice of wasting valuable assets.”

“I’m sure you meant that in a way that’s not offensive,” you answer. “I’ll do my best to never call you again.”

“Smart girl.” He gives Simon a nod, and then he and Kyle are out the front door.

The shower head sputters and spits, but eventually produces surprisingly warm water. Not hot, but warm enough that you don’t feel bad herding Simon in to get clean. Warm enough that you groan when you step in with him.

There’s a silicone bulb hanging from the tube in Simon’s armpit, compressed to create some kind of vacuum. It’s pink with blood and other fluids. It doesn’t seem to bother him, so you use your hands to gently wash you both with a generic body wash. When you start rinsing dirt and an errant piece of leaf litter from your hair, he smirks and leans in until your back is pressed against the cold tile.

“Fuck,” you can’t help but panic. Your hands go to his hips in case he’s losing his balance. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, just braces the arm on his wounded side over your head. The drain site looks a little red, but not concerning, so you check the edges of the waterproof bandage Gaz placed to make sure it’s still set.

That’s why you don’t realize what he’s done until a splash of his blood hits your cheek and drips into your mouth. You can’t really rear back, trapped against the wall. All you can do tilt your face away and sputter as he empties the drain onto the side of your neck to drip down your collarbones.

He grunts a disagreeing sound when you lift your arm, catches your hand before you can lift it very far. His hand comes up to your cheek, two fingers touching where his blood has dripped to your chin. He pushes his hips into you, and you can feel where he’s getting hard.

When he speaks, it’s little more than a whisper. “You were supposed to slash my arm, you know.”

“Wha-”

He’s not gentle when he shoves his fingers into your mouth. For all that he was laid out on the floor less than an hour ago, you can’t force his hand away with both of yours. It’s all you can do try to fight the urge to gag as you barely hold him at bay.

“Knew you’d like the gifts,” he growls down at you. “But you were s’possed to slash, hm? That’s what a good girl like you does, chased in the woods. Easy to drop a knife that way.” He uses his fingers in your mouth and thumb under your chin to make you stare up into his eyes. “Where’s a sweet thing like you learn to keep a knife close to the body? Felt you let it slide, flat. Felt you push.”

Had you? You hadn’t felt it, just the anxiety spike of being attacked, the cradle of his hand shielding your head from the ground. Just his huge body and that skull mask, on you suddenly, without warning. You can’t answer, can’t even try without gagging. Simon gives your jaw a little shake.

“You could have killed me, today.” He grinds your body between his and the wall for a moment, before stepping back. He drags you under the spray of water, other hand cradling the back of your head. You struggle to cough, try to turn your face down. Your heart races as you do, knowing it’s only because he let you.

And then he slips his fingers from your mouth and brings your face to his chest. He holds you as you cough, pets over your back. You cling to him, because what else can you do? When you finally look up at him, his pupils have all but swallowed the blue of his eyes.

“Fear looks so good on you, Precious.”

Taglist: @mishaglass, @oceanicexolorer, @whitetiger846, @iknownothingpeople, @fruitdoom, @achillesquartz, @hindi-si-ikay, @ahopelesspedantic

[diejager]

Puppy reader who is teething and her teeth feels very itchy so she constantly needs to chew on something and monster!Konig tentacles are her favorite things to chew on bc they're kinda rubbery, soft and taste funny...

- ����

Cw: teething, biting, sea food???, tell me if I missed any.

Ghost had been your handler for the past year, having to train and teach you everything you’d need to work with them. He’d seen your lows as often as your highs, from a whining pup, moaning about not receiving enough pets or kisses or treats, seemingly almost missing something, to an energetic mutt, bouncing off the walls and running laps at the prospect of praises and affection. 

He’d seen it all, every little moment you had that had him strain against the limit of his patience as a competent handler. And despite your age, far from being a young puppy with frail limbs and limp ears, you could act as on: whining, crying, barking until something - someone - gave you the attention you needed, but he’d never seen you do… this.

It was unusual for you to be this mouthy, teeth itching to sink into something, your teeth bared and snarling when anyone tried to take the object from your mouth. Ghost had bought you toys, boxes filled with softer chew toys rather than the hard plastic of a shoe or the metal bite of utensils, but you worked through them faster than he could provide. Perhaps you were bored of the repeated drills despite dogs being creatures of habit, or you were lacking activity, he was getting busier with all the reports and paperwork he had to fill in for Price. Especially with another PMZ being called for a joint alliance.

He worried that they’d pose a danger to you, so young and naive to how others could treat you as a hybrid, he had both Gaz and Soap follow you —or rather, you follow them; but when he saw you perk up at the sight of a giant man and another hybrid, a scarred tiger, Ghost felt his shoulders tense. You just had to find interest in a man - could he even be a man with how big he was? - heads taller than him, broad and dangerous. You had completely forgotten his orders, trailing behind the giant like a lost pup, tail wagging and eyes bright. 

You’d go missing for hours upon hours, leaving the Task Force as worried as they were confused, lost without the small ball of sunshine around them. They would go looking for you, asking around until they eventually found you curled up and asleep on your bed, your snoring echoing softly in Ghost’s room. It went on like that for the week and the next, only finding you in the Mess Hall or your bed, not knowing where you went during these long breaks. 

Until- until Gaz had found you straddling the giant’s - König’s - lap, you face covered in a thin layer of mucus and gnawing on a tentacle, long and dark and viscous. Ghost was livid, König being an octopus hybrid - however odd that sounded - and how at ease you both felt to let each other be so physically close to one another. Granted, you were a sociable hybrid, which seemed to bother him less than the sight of you biting on a König’s tentacle.

He knew you were somehow teething, but it bothered him how you were dealing with it with someone else instead of coming to him for a solution. Ghost would have to talk to you later.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[thedovesaredying]

Werewolf!141 x F!Reader | Sneak Peek

You've been assigned to Task Force 141 as their designated Werewolf Handler. It will be your job to ensure that the pack work together as coherently as possible through any means necessary. You think it will be an easy enough assignment, just help out the Task Force and then move on to the next one. Unfortunately for you, the rest of 141 aren't so willing to let go of their new human.

A/N: Just a little snippet from an AU I'm playing around with. It'll mostly be a smut-based fic.

Warnings: Mentioned Child Abuse (Simon's Past)

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Next

Out of every member of Task Force 141, Ghost is the only person you’ve struggled to get along with. That isn’t to say he’s rude or deliberately trying to make you feel uncomfortable with them, he’s simply not as welcoming as all the others. He has his reasons for that, you know, probably some kind of attempt at keeping you safe, but it’s beginning to get on your nerves.  

You’re a human, the rest of your team are not. A whole pack of werewolves with you right in the middle of it. While normally you would be touched that someone cares so much for your welfare, you’ve spent years learning how to handle werewolves and you’re far from a rookie. It’s gone from being sweet to being nothing but irritating.  

You’re their designated handler, so it’s vital that all of you can work well as a team. You’ve met three of the wolves – Price, Gaz and Soap’s - and for the most part they’re good fun to work with.  

Soap, by far, has the clingiest wolf. He follows you around base, tail wagging and tongue lolling as he acts like your own personal shadow. He’s playful and loves nothing more than to run circles around you while you’re trying to work. According to his file, he comes from a large family of other wolves, so he’s well socialised and both halves of his personality, human and wolf, work together in perfect harmony.  

Gaz’s wolf is a little more reserved when it comes to spending time with those outside of the pack, but he’s just as friendly toward you as Soap, if a little less excitable. He has a beautiful, sleek black coat, unlike Soap’s shaggy brown mop of fur. You’re the only human who can run your fingers through his soft fluff without potentially losing a finger for disturbing his luscious locks.  

Your Captain has the typical grey colouring, with some white sprinkled across his muzzle. He’s the very picture of a regal, perfectly poised wolf. The two sergeants might be unruly when playing together and enjoy riling up one another, but both heed Price’s commands without fail.  

Ghost, however, is an unknown.  

During the full moon your pack run out across the field on base, play wrestling and doing their best to smother you with affection. It’s an evening of fun and a perfect way for the group to destress every month. But Ghost? He’s never there with you.  

While Gaz and Soap grew up with other werewolves teaching them how to behave and coexist with their inner wolves, and Price has had decades of working in the military to develop a vice-like grip on the control over his own, Ghost never had such an opportunity. He wasn’t born as a werewolf, rather turned into one.  

Werewolves born from others of their kind have good relationships with their wolf halves, having existed together even within the womb. Those who are turned suddenly find themselves with a whole separate creature suddenly inhabiting their minds and bodies, and the results of having their psyche torn to pieces so violently can be horrific. You’ve seen firsthand what kinds of aggressive, murderous beasts can be born from a newly changed werewolf rejecting their other half.  

Ghost is one such beast. Turned as a child by his own father in an attempt to make him bigger and stronger, only for it to backfire and create a terrifying monster instead. Instead of learning to embrace his wolf on a full moon and finding others of his kind to play and grow with, a young Simon’s wolf found himself locked up in a metal cage. He would be muzzled and beaten during his father’s attempts at “training” the wolf, then left either chained to a pole or in the tiny cage without food or water for the remainder of his change.  

And that’s merely what Ghost’s medical file is willing to disclose, the majority of the rest blacked out completely. You’re fortunate enough to have access to the highly classified documents, but even they give you very little to work with.  

Price has told you just how difficult it is for the other wolves to work with Simon’s wolf. He never learned how to socialise with other wolves, and it took months before they could all cohabitate without fights breaking out. But still now, years on, Ghost still refuses to spend the full moon with the rest of the pack.  

You were requested specifically to work with the pack to try and help Ghost open up a little and learn to accept his other half. No doubt it’ll be a difficult task given Ghost’s history, but this isn’t your first rodeo. By the end of this you’ll have Ghost’s wolf rolling over for belly rubs like the good boy you know he is.  

[marvelshifter111]

My desired realities

? - possible DRs

Movies/Series

Marvel

Wednesday

Star Trek

Spider-verse

CSI: Las Vegas

Death in paradise - ?

Enola Holmes - ?

Avatar - ?

Maleficent

Men in black - ?

Books

Shatter me

Marta Smart

Cruel prince - ??

Lifestyle

Fame - old money

Fame - new money

Book reader

Cafe owner

Boarding school - ?

Mermaid

Fairy

Farm - ?

K9 handler - COD monster au

Waiting room

[baohanhanesel]

↓Masterpost

Name's Hansel.

She/they.

I am 18! ✋

INTJ 4w3 🤔

COD fandom artist at your service.

Soap Enthusiast...

My other socials!

Writing List + Drawing List undercut.

→ Writing List

Platonic.

Father TF141 learns about your long-term lover.

Mom of the TF141.

Medic Reader & Ghost, he doesn't want to take orders from you, same goes for you.

Medic Reader & König, you are both scared of the other.

New rookie with a mask, drinking out for the first time with the TF141.

You are an artist, they are your muse.

Karaoke with TF141 + Los Vaqueros.

Father Soap doesn't want you to leave him alone.

Father TF141 witnesses you having a night terror.

Romantic.

You want a private relationship, TF141.

Married life with John Mactavish.

World Praise Day with TF141.

Play fighting with your bf, Soap and Ghost.

Manhandling, Boyfriend Soap and Best friend Ghost.

Calling him by his name, Soap.

Calling them by their callsigns, Soap and Ghost.

Valeria Garza.

Obsessed Reader.

Obsessed Reader 2.

Begging you.

"Understood, ma'am?" She is mad at you.

Reader is a member of TF141. Interrogation scenario.

Reader is Alejandro Vargas's sister.

Ally Reader, Bantering.

Ally Reader, Jealousy.

"Belong to Valeria." Reader is Valeria's right-hand soldier.

→ Drawing List .

You can find my art by typing in my search; #ghoap #09ghoap #soap x oc #Mere aus #cod scribbles

Cuz I got lot of art of them fuckers.

Ghoap Scribbles.

Valeria w Obsessed Reader/yn/oc.

König w Male reader/yn/oc.

Ghoap, Sneaky forehead kisses.

Morning sight John Mactavish.

Valeria w Vampire Reader/yn/oc.

Ghoap, Valentine's day scribble.

Ghoap, A shoulder to lean on.

Ghoap, Spider kiss. <3

Ghoap Scribble.

Ghoap, Hurt Johnny.

Ghoap, Possessive Hug. <3

Ghoap, Forehead kiss.

Ghoap, Missing one another.

Masked men, König and Ghost body sketches.

Sergeants, Gaz and Soap body sketches.

Giving Gaz some love!

Ghoap kiss, Soap w Ghost's mask.

John Soap Mactavish appreciation from me.

OC - Religious.

Ghoap, Boop.

Ghoap, Ghost in red - Soap in a suit.

Frog Ghoap.

GazGhost Whump.

Ghoap, Domestic Morning <3

SoapGaz, Mwah!

Gaz meet König?

Ghoap, Blood as Lube <3

Dark Ghoap.

Ghoap, "Ah'm alive" "Welcome alive." <3

Ghoap, MerMay.

Gaz, MerMay. <3

Merman Price w Handler Ghost, MerMay.

Merman Soap w Handler Ghost, MerMay.

Merman Gaz w Handler Ghost, MerMay.

Ghoap, To Be Enchanted.

Ghoap, Possessive/Obsessive Soap.

Valeria Garza, in a tie.

Alerudy.

Pricegaz week, May 30 - Sit in Water.

Ghostsoapgaz.

Ghoap, mask bite/kiss.

Ghoap, John service. Simon's shaky. <3

Ghoap, "You got beautiful eyes."

Ghoap, Cowboy.

Soap/Ghost, Colours. <3

Domestic Ghoap. <3

Keegan.

Pampering König.

GazSoap, Bonding time.

Ghoap, Roses.

Ghoap, Vampire Ghost.

Ghoap, Johnny in lace.

Ghoap, Civies. <3

Babygirl John Soap Mactavish. <3

Ghoap, Modeling. <3

Pricesoap, with Ghost.

Dragon Soap with his hoard. (Tf141)

Ghost and Soap, I love my hot turkish gf shirts...

09 Ghoap, Simon Pup eyes Riley.

09 GhoapRoach, Cuddles.

09 Ghoap, Hybrid Mactavish and Handler Riley.

Ghoap, Redraw Blood.

09 GhoapRoach, Hybrid Mactavish and Sanderson with Handler Riley.

Ghoap, Pirate Ghost and Mer Monster Soap.

Ghoap, Aphrodite Soap x Ares Ghost.

Ghoap, being idiots; Heavy box.

Tf141, Puppy Eyes.

Ghoap, Mer Soap w Pirate Ghost.

Ghoap, Boob heaven...

[talldapple]

@cod-dump @quietlyignoringyou @lululandd I finished :)

PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. I'M PUTTING TRIGGERS AND IN WHOSE PARAGRAPHS THEY ARE LOCATED IN CASE YOU NEED TO SKIP THEM.

CW: Body Horror (All), Suicide (Just be safe, I'm gonna say all. Explicit in Laswell, mentioned in Price, attempted in Ghost, talking about killing a double self in Soap), Infant/Fetal Death (Gaz), Forced Overstimulation (Gaz), Child Abuse (Gaz), Self-Harm (Ghost), Medical Malpractice (Soap), Medical Torture (Soap), Depersonalization (Soap), Derealization (Soap), Depression (Soap), no paragraph breaks for dialog

This got so out of hand. I’m so sorry. If you need to skip someone's story but are curious, please message me. I'll give you a summary of what they are/what they can do.

Word Count: 10,277

Project Toyetic, starting in 1935, was a monumental leap forward in the world of human genetics. To the majority of the world, it was either titled ‘the next step in human evolution’ or ‘the abandonment of God’s perfect Adam’ depending on what your political belief was. They only saw the success stories; quicker run-times, increased blood flow, more stamina, longer youth: perfect humans. But these were the frontmen the project put up for the public. The minor changes. Only the small benefits to ease the public’s fears of purposeful genetic experimentation.

Like other government projects before them, there was more hiding underneath. The true horror of Project Toyetic hid in S.A.S. Taskforce 141. Where the project’s more ambitious experiments go for test runs, to hide from the world forever, or die.

Laswell is one of Project Toyetic’s child experiments success stories from the late 1970s. Her genetics were modified at the age of 8 to increase the synapses in her brain, increasing brain power. She did enjoy time in the spotlight as a frontman for Project Toyetic briefly but was soon relocated to being Taskforce 141’s handler after their last handler quit in early 1998. She was 28. Her main job: to take control of lead the leftover 141 experiments in their operations. If any of her Taskforce disobeyed, became too costly to maintain, forced her hand, was defective failed, she had full authority to execute handle them immediately as effectively as possible. To be fair, she did do her duty.

One 141 member on record died by her hand; a man named Stahl. Stahl was a successful spider-hybrid experiment: eight eyes, a Yautja-like mouth structure, web production from his fingertips, and the ability to climb on walls and ceilings. While out on a mission, Stahl clearly disobeyed orders. He ran off into the wilderness before anyone had the chance to stop him. Laswell, as was her duty, followed to kill him. After three hours of tracking him down, Stahl jumped out of a tree and kneeled execution-style before Laswell. She raised her gun and placed the muzzle on the back of his head. “Why? Why did you run?” She was just supposed to kill him, but she had to know. Stahl sighed, “There’s a village, two clicks northeast of here. My family lives there. The men we were following had dealings with several corrupt officers there. I went and dealt with them.” Laswell hesitated. If this was true she didn’t need to kill him. He saved innocents. “Just do it,” Stahl mumbled. "I know what I did. The 141 doesn’t need you to get into any trouble." Laswell started to pull her gun away. “I can’t. You did disobey orders but if what you’ve said is true-“ “BUT THAT’S ENOUGH! I'VE SEEN BETTER MEN EXECUTED FOR LESS!” Stahl started grabbing for his own pistol. He had gotten the muzzle into his spilt-open mouth before Laswell shoved it away. "Stop! If what you said is true I don't have to-" Stahl lunged after the gun and Laswell fought to keep him away from it. “Stop, please! I knew what I was doing! JUST LET ME FUCKING DIE LIKE THE USELESS DOG I AM!” Laswell stopped in shock. How the fuck was he so willing to die? He was human, he had a family, why did he insist he was a monster? Stahl was able to scramble on his knees and grab his pistol. With Laswell stopping, Stahl calmly spoke again, "Thank you for the hesitation." "It's the right thing. I don't have to kill you." "No. But you were going to anyways." Stahl looked at Laswell with mournful eyes. "If you had followed protocol and just shot me on sight, I'd be dead, and you wouldn't be protesting right now." Laswell couldn't move. Adrenaline was leaving her system and she was frozen in fear. "I haven't fulfilled that duty yet. I'm in charge. I can change the protocols!" He turned the safety off. “If you want to change how things go around the 141, it’d be better to not turn the gun on us at the first sign of disorder.” He turned to face her with a cheeky smile. “Last chance to fulfill your obligation to Toyetic.” Laswell just sat prone in the mud and shook her head. “No. Don't. I promise you, this will never happen again under my watch.” Stahl’s smile faded. He pressed the gun into his temple. “Then I’m glad to be your first and last." "Stahl, stop it." Adrenaline reentered her system as she scrambled once more to grab Stahl's pistol. "DON'T!" "Goodbye, Chief Laswell. Take good care of them for me.” And with those final words. Stahl shot himself in the middle of the forest. Hours later, Laswell had made it back to exfil with Stahl's body. The entire ride back to base was silent. Laswell was greaving and her men were mourning the loss of their comrade. Before any other 141 members got off, she stood up and spoke. “This should have never happened. I've made a promise to a dead man, and I plan on keeping it. None of you shall die by my hand. I may be your handler, but I am not an executioner.” She looked back at the dead body of Stahl wrapped in a dull military tarp. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Things will change around here. I promise you all that. None of you deserve what has been given to you. You don't deserve to die." This was the only time she cried in front of her charges.

Price is the oldest of the 141 experiments. He was the only successful attempt at eternal youth and invincibility back in 1942. He would have been one of Project Toyetic’s earliest success stories. However, invincibility does not mean invulnerability. During one of Price’s first test runs, he was grazed by a bullet on his left shoulder. The wound bled for three whole months before any scab started to form, and took about one year for the scar to be fully healed. During this time, the wound became infected multiple times and caused Price to be sick every time. Because of his harsh experiment, Price was forever young and unable to die, but his immune system and healing processes were drastically diminished. Over the 80 years of post-experimentation, Price had gotten better at dodging harm like that. But the worst he ever faced was only two years before Laswell became the 141’s handler in early 1998.

Price and a couple of other 141 members were supposed to be the search and rescue for a squad of Canadian soldiers that were two days off from their planned evac from a training exercise. The 141 split up in pairs as Price and his buddy (a failed mitosis experiment with two heads as a result of splicing shark D.N.A.) trekked the area to the west of the evac point. They didn’t find the squad. Instead, both of them fell into a pit of jagged rocks below a shear cliff. Both Price and his buddy became impaled on the rocks. His buddy, due to his failed experimentation, caught the scent of blood and began to cannibalize himself and died as a result. Price was left to heavily bleed out onto the rocks below him. Every time he gained the strength to attempt to pull himself off the spike, it slipped farther into him and even started to push out of the other side of his body. He was stuck there for two and a half weeks drifting in and out of consciousness and constantly draining blood. He finally drifted into a coma just days before they were found by the rest of the force. Price was in this coma for three years.

· · ────────────── · ·

During the last couple of months of his coma, Laswell took charge of the 141. At the beginning of her tenure, she hated Price. According to her job description, Price was a defective soldier: he was stuck in a coma with no way out. It was her duty to kill him. He was wasting project resources. But two things eventually stopped this line of thought. 1) Price was unkillable, obviously. 2) Stahl’s death. After she came back with Stahl dead in her arms, she visited Price every day. She began to ingratiate herself with 141 members. She was there when Price woke up. She didn’t alert the nurses. “Good afternoon, Captain. You’ve been out quite a while.” “Who are you?” “I’m Inspector Chief Laswell. I was sent here a couple of months ago.” “Where’s Chief Pickering?” “He quit.” Both of them stayed silent waiting for the other to break. Laswell broke first, “You don’t want to know how long you’ve been out?” Price shrugged and rubbed his eyes. “Figured it’d be a long time. But that doesn’t matter. I’ve got more time than anyone here could want. The only thing I want to know is how my men are.” Price glared at the young Laswell next to his bedside and growled. “How many of my men have you slaughtered?” A look of sadness flashed on her face, “Truthfully, or on the records?” Price’s glare softened into a quizzical look. He motioned for her to continue. “On the records, I have only killed one: Stahl.” Price frowned at this. Stahl was a good man. His mutations were very helpful on the field and his personality brightened up everyone around him. “And truthfully?” “Truthfully, no one. Stahl killed himself after I refused to do perform my duty on the field.” Price’s anger swelled. “Horse shit! Stahl would never fucking do that! I know I’ve only just met you, but-“ “Let me explain, Captain.” Laswell interrupted harshly, “He disobeyed orders. I was going to do my job, but I asked him to explain himself. It’s against protocol, I know, but I was curious. He would have been my first.” Laswell paused to let the Captian process. “We were close to his home village and he strayed off course to kill a couple of corrupt officials that had deals with the men we were sent to hunt down. Stahl was innocent so I hesitated. In my hesitation, he shot himself.” Laswell and Price stared at each other again. Pausing to wait for the other to break. This time, Price broke. “And he’s the only one?” “Yes. I have not, nor will I ever, harm any of your men.” Price chuckled, “That’s against protocol, Chief.” Laswell smiled. “And killing unarmed men is a crime, Captain. I've only been here eight months, but I’ve learned that you lot tend to bend the rules around here. So I’ve bent a few myself.” Price laid back on the hospital bed. No other handler bent the rules that far. “I think you and I will get along together just fine, Laswell.” Laswell nodded, “My thoughts exactly, John.”

Gaz was a product of one of Project Toyetic’s first in-vitro experiments. Because he was one of the first, they started out with a simple modification. The genetics to heighten one's senses were perfected years ago, but they could only be successfully implanted in children younger than four months old. Gaz was only one of 14 children that survived his birth. The remanding 346 either died naturally or were terminated in the womb to save the mother's life. Out of those 14 survivors, only Gaz lived to legally become an adult. A typical heightened senses success story from Project Toyetic had only one heightened sense; sight, hearing, or smell. Because of the implementation at conception, everything was heightened for Gaz; sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. Every day, these infants cried and cried due to something being too overwhelming for their senses. To protect the surviving children, each of them was given a 10 by 10-foot room to live in. It was a prison to keep any and all stimuli to a minimum. But this system was never perfect. When Gaz was 6 years old, the researchers started to slowly introduce outside stimuli to the children. 'To help them acclimate to the outside world.' They egregiously overestimated how sensitive these children were.

Researcher Reed always came into Kyle's room with a choice for him. "Do you want to color today? Or would you like to play with the wooden blocks again?" Kyle could handle speaking voices just fine after a multitude of voluntary acclimation sessions, but he still preferred to whisper. "Can we color?" Kyle liked coloring. The stimuli from coloring didn't bother him as much. He didn't know why she suggested the blocks. They tried that yesterday, and it ended in failure. The wood felt like too much, and the sound of them clicking together and scraping on different surfaces paralyzed him. He was able to appear happy and calm during the acclimation session, but as soon as Reed left, Kyle cried for hours. His hands didn't feel right and nothing could get the feeling off of him. Reed smiled, "Okay then. I'll be right back. Do you want the lights brighter or should I leave them dimmed?" "Brighten them, please." He was okay with brighter lights. Brighter lights meant he could see the colors better. He liked the colors. Reed came back into the room with her hands hiding behind her. "Are you ready, Kyle?" Kyle nodded. Reed instead pulled out the bag of wooden blocks from yesterday. They rustled together and the noise made Kyle's teeth start to hurt. "No," he frightfully whispered. "Kyle, we need you to get past this. In order to go outside, you need to get used to uncomfortable sounds." She took two blocks out of the bag and placed them harshly on the play table. Kyle shook his head and placed his hands over his ears. Just seeing them made the feeling of the wood grain crawl back under his skin. The sharp noise of them striking the table hurt his ears as well. "Please, no. I just want to color today." "What do you not like about the blocks, Kyle?" Her voice was too loud. Kyle shook his head, closed his eyes, and curled into himself even tighter. This needed to stop. She spoke louder, "Do you not like the noises?" "Stop." "Which noise hurts the most? The scraping?" Reed scraped one of the blocks on the table. "Please. Stop." Kyle was about to cry. Louder, "The thudding?" Reed took both of the blocks and clicked them together. "I want to color." Kyle was crying as his voice raised to match Reed's volume. Louder, "Is it the canvas bag? Does the rustling hurt?" Reed picked up the bag with all the blocks in it and shook it. After shaking it, she turned the bag over and spilled the blocks all over the tiled floor. "PLEASE! STOP!" Kyle was openly weeping and shouting. It was too much. It needed to stop. It all needed to stop. Reed shouted back, "STOP WHAT? WHAT NEEDS TO STOP, KYLE?" "I DON'T WANT THE BLOCKS! THE BLOCKS HURT MY EARS! THEY MAKE MY HANDS HURT!" The shouting was hurting his ears but he just wanted to be heard. Reed spoke softer now. "I know they do, Kyle. That's why I need to do this. You need to get used to bad sounds if you ever want to leave." "BUT I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE IF THERE ARE BAD SOUNDS! BAD LIGHTS! BAD ANYTHING! I WANT NOTHING BAD!" At this Reed stopped altogether. She started to pick up the blocks as Kyle continued to sob. She picked up the last one and moved to sit in front of Kyle. She held it out to him and whispered, "Can you at least hold it for me? Just for five seconds and we can color tomorrow. No choice." Snot and tears streaked down his face. "Promise?" Reed nodded. "I promise." Kyle wiped away his tears onto his shirt and hesitated to pick up the block. He grabbed it with only his pointer finger and thumb and held it as far away from his body as he could. The grain under his fingertip grated harshly and the paint under his thumb was too smooth. The feeling crawled up his arm and cause him to shake slightly. After Reed announced the five seconds were done (It was actually ten), Kyle dropped the cube and scooted away from it. "Good job, kid. You did well." "We'll color tomorrow?" "I promised. And I never break a promise." They didn't color tomorrow. Another researcher came in with the blocks and they 'played' again.

· · ────────────── · ·

Kyle was placed into the 141 as soon as he turned 18. Because of the insistent acclimation sessions, Kyle was able to face the world, but overstimulation was still a threat. He constantly has to wear sunglasses, noise-canceling headphones, gloves, and a compression shirt when off-duty. His heightened senses have made him an excellent marksman and tracker. With enough training in the 141, Gaz is able to 'see around corners'. He can't actually, he can see the heat waves of a body when they are close to a corner. He kept his time off base to a minimum. That was until Laswell opened up an invitation to the whole of 141 one day. "There's gonna be a carnival in the next town over, anyone want to join?" This was part of Laswell's commitment to changing the 141. In years past, other handlers kept everyone locked inside the base unless they were on a mission. That was protocol. But, in bending the rules, Laswell allowed any members free leave with restrictions that they couldn't show the public their mutations. That was easy enough for Gaz, but he still hated to go out. Unfortunately, Price forced his hand on this one. "You haven't left the base in months, son. You need to go out and do something." "And what if I get overstimulated? I've never been overstimulated out in public and I'm not gonna start now. Besides, a carnival would be the worst place for me anyways." "And why is that?" "It's the ultimate place for bright lights, loud noises, and awful smells. I can't go there." "What if one of us was with you?" Gaz thought about it. Having a member of the 141 with him did help calm him down during an episode. And they usually did help distract him from other stimuli. And he always tried his best to make Price proud. "...Okay. But just this once." Price smiled. "Okay. Laswell will stay with you. I think it'll be you, her, and just a couple of others. That sound good?" Gaz nodded. The evening of the carnival outing finally arrived and Gaz got fully decked out in his usual off-base gear. Laswell waved him over to where everyone was standing next to three plain vehicles. Gaz shuffled up next to Laswell. "Okay, boys. Meet y'all there in a half hour. Carnival closes at 0100. All of you better be back here on base before 0200, am I clear?" A chorus of agreement sounded off and the rest of the group filed into two of the vans. "Come on, Kyle. We're heading over in this one." "We get one to ourselves?" "Yes. Just in case you need to come back before everyone's done." "Oh." Gaz climbed into the passenger seat. "Thank you." Laswell smiled and started their trek to the carnival. Their time there was quite enjoyable. Being outside the base had already placed Gaz near the edge of overstimulation, but nothing had pushed him over yet. He was careful to avoid anything too triggering. Gaz had taken to wandering on the outskirts of the fairgrounds looking at the various games of chance.

One caught his eye, a dart toss. Should be easy enough. He was a good enough marksman, after all. Laswell happily paid the $5 and Gaz got his three darts. Gaz took off one of his gloves to hold to the darts better. He couldn’t hold them all at once due to their texture. But one at a time would work. Darts one and two flew easily, hitting small balloons hidden between larger ones. Gaz had difficulty with the last dart though. The texture was off. This one had something slightly sticky on it. Maybe some soda spilled on it a while ago or a kid with melted cotton candy on their fingers threw this dart hours ago, but that didn’t matter. It was wrong. It was sticking. It was too much. It took all his focus to not shiver and drop the dart. Instead, Gaz lifted his arm and missed a final balloon. Before the game attendant could ask him which prize he wanted, Gaz fled. He needed to get it off his hand. He became so focused on the stickiness of his hand that he didn’t notice Laswell following close behind him. Before he could leave the fairgrounds, Laswell placed a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” “Dart.” “What was wrong with it?” “Sticky. Wrong.” "What do you need?” “Need it off.” “I have wipes. Would those work?” Gaz nodded and held out his hand. A wetness appeared on his hand. He vigorously wiped his hands off. It’s gone. It’s gone, but the feeling wasn’t. The dart pushed Gaz over the edge. During his walk away, the lights and sounds became too much. “Do you need anything else?” “No. Fine.” “I can see you’re not. You’re overstimmed still.” “No. Fine.” “Kyle. If you need to leave, we can.” “No. Stay.” Gaz was actually having fun before this happened. He didn’t want it to end. He could get through this. Laswell sighed. “Okay. But let’s at least find somewhere quieter. How does the Ferris Wheel sound? I didn’t see much of a line there.” Gaz looked over and nodded. The Ferris Wheel was over on the edge of the carnival, away from a majority of the louder sounds and brighter lights. It would be a good place to power through this. Laswell was telling the truth. There was barely a line for the ride. "You don't have a fear of heights do you?" Gaz shook his head and Laswell smirked. "Good." She went up to the ride attendant before they boarded. Gaz saw her slip something into the kid's hand. The kid looked down, widened their eyes, and nodded furiously. Laswell then climbed into the cage with Gaz. The two stayed silent as the cage moved around the wheel slowly. At the top, everything was nearly silent, and the lights from the other rides seemed so far away. It really did calm Gaz down. But that feeling was short-lived as they continued their predetermined path. Two more loops and the ride would be done. One more loop and they would be done. Gaz closed his eyes to calm down a bit faster. They made it to the top for the last time and the cage slowed to a stop. Gaz looked around in surprise. "We're gonna be up here for the next twenty-ish minutes. Will that be enough for you to calm down?" Sneaky Laswell. Gaz nodded. He wouldn't be totally calm, but he'd be calm enough to get through the rest of the night. "You're not lying to me are you?" Damn. She got him there. He huffed instead of answering. Laswell smiled softly. "Okay. We're gonna leave after this." Gaz simply stared out onto the fairgrounds below. After a couple minutes of silence, Laswell whispered, "You don't have to suffer, Kyle." "I know." "Do you?" Laswell was staring straight at Gaz. "I'm just so used to powering through it that being on the edge has become my normal." "It doesn't have to be. If you need time to decompress, to calm down, you tell me. I'm here to help in any way I can." She reached her hand to Gaz. An offering to comfort him. Gaz reached past her hand and grabbed her into a hug. "Thank you." Laswell hugged back and the wheel started to move again. "I'm ready to go back now."

Ghost was unlike the majority of Project Toyetic's projects. He wasn't experimented on genetically. Instead, he was the result of the project's forays into other scientific fields: biological nanotech. Nanotechnology was a very recent addition to Project Toyetic’s scope of interest, but it was very quickly adapted into a multitude of various forms ranging from healing to damaging. The experimentation on Simon was to see what would happen if both damaging and healing nanotech were injected into a dying man. The conflict between the two forms of nanotech placed Ghost in a state of undeath and changed the coding of the damaging nanobots. Ghost's heart and lungs were destroyed from his initial death, but the healing nanos keep blood and oxygen flowing throughout the body so that everything else may operate as normal. While it is not known how the coding changed on the damaging nanotech, it is recorded that Ghost now has control over them. Normally, Ghost has them in a dormant state. And at his will, Ghost can activate the nanobots to dissipate into a cloud of smoke-like vapor. He can then control the nanobots to move while suspended in the air and reform himself in another area. Once reformed, the damaging nanobots are shut off again to allow him to rapidly reheal. This process was discovered not long after Simon was declared dead.

Simon opened his eyes. The bright lights of the hospital room only blinded him briefly. An orderly took notice of his minuscule movements. "Lieutenant Riley? Can you hear me?" Simon groaned in response. Under the man's breath, he heard, "Holy shit, you're awake." Louder he heard, "I'll be right back. I'm going to go grab a doctor." Simon groaned again. His jaw and the skin around it were bandaged heavily. In fact, Simon could feel bandages around the majority of his body. He lay there waiting for a couple of minutes before another man entered the room. "Lieutenant Riley! Surprised to see you awake." He had a slight waiver in his voice. The doctor started to give him a small check-up. "I'm going to ask some yes or no questions. You do have heavy bandages around your jaw at the moment, so please grunt once for yes, twice for no. Okay?" Grunt. "Good. Your name is Lieutenant Riley, correct?" Grunt. "Do you know where you are?" Grunt grunt. "You are at Riverside Hospital. Do you know what day it is?" Grunt grunt. "It's December 29th. You've been," the doctor paused, "sleeping for the past three days." Simon's mind was racing: was Joseph okay, was his family okay, can he see them? But Simon only grunted so the doctor could continue. "Okay. Do you remember anything from after the fire till now?" Grunt grunt. "Lieutenant Riley, are you aware you're heart is not beating?" Simon didn't grunt. He waited and felt for his heartbeat. He couldn't feel it. "Are you aware that you haven't breathed in the last 70 hours?" Simon started to panic. He wasn't breathing, his heart wasn't beating, how was he alive? It was at this moment that Simon felt a strange tingling in his legs. It started from the bottom of his feet and traveled swiftly up his entire body. Simon blacked out. He couldn't see anything. Less than a minute later, he opened his eyes again. Simon was standing facing the hospital bed. The bandages were off of him and the doctor was staring at him with fear in his eyes. Simon spoke for the first time in days, causing a massive amount of built-up carbon dioxide to escape his body in a rasp, "What did you do to me?" The doctor was frozen until Simon took one step toward the man. The doctor jumped and ran out of the room. The heavy doors slammed behind him and Simon heard a heavy lock slide into place. Once again that tingling feeling took over his body. Once again, darkness, but soon after, a hallway manifested around Simon. The doctor was running away from him and yelling frantically. Simon growled. What is going on here? Simon ran after the man as the tingling started up again. This time, the man ran into him. Simon grabbed him and placed him in a combat hold. "What is happening to me?" Silence. "Answer me!" "I don't know!" "What do you know?" Simon's grip on the man tightened. "You are dead! Lieutenant Simon Riley died three days ago. You were injected with both healing and damaging nanobots as part of a Project Toyetic experiment. What's happening now is an unexpected side effect." Simon grabbed tighter. "Where is my family?" The doctor had to strain his voice at this point. "I don't know. Once you died, you were taken here." "Where is here? You said I was at Riverside?" "I lied. Toyetic's London division." The doctor was straining his voice and was close to passing out so Simon let him go. After the doctor took a couple of deep breaths, Simon spoke again. "I want to leave." "I'm afraid you can't do that, Lieutenant." This was a new voice: female and right behind him. Simon turned, startled. Simon stood there and stared down the new intruder. "And who the fuck are you?" "I'm Chief Inspector Laswell. Handler of Taskforce 141." Simon's eyes narrowed. "141 is a myth." Laswell only raised her eyebrows. "Well if it is, then we are truly out of a job." Laswell then shifted her attention to the doctor behind Simon. "You can leave. I've got him handled." "Y-Yes, ma'am." The doctor ran off. Simon waited until the man rounded the hallway corner before speaking again. "What do you mean, 'we'?"

Laswell sighed. "With your new condition, you can no longer be operating as a normal S.A.S. agent. Technically, you are now property of Project Toyetic and have been assigned to Taskforce 141." "You can't do this to me." Laswell looked upon Simon with sadness in her eyes. "Unfortunately, I must-" "No. I don't accept this." "Lieuten-" Before he could hear her finish, Simon shifted away. He didn't know where he landed this time, but it looked like a decrepit hallway. Simon picked a direction and ran. He soon heard footsteps making their way toward him. To hide, Simon slid into an empty closet that was next to him. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Simon was panicking. Of course, he had heard of Taskforce 141: horror stories of torture, imprisonment, monsters, and death as a hair-trigger-punishment. He couldn't go there. Not after he promised to be around more for Joseph. Being in the 141 would mean he would never see any of his family again. I need to get out of here. But how? There were the strange movements he was making around the doctor. Okay. But how was I doing that? Focus? Simon closed his eyes and thought about the tingling feeling. Nothing. Shit. I don't think that could've done much anyways. Don't even know the layout of this building. Simon ran a hand down his face and started to look around the closet he had forced himself into. I'm gonna have to run. It was a slim chance, but maybe it had something to help him. Nope. Only cleaning products and leftover office supplies. But scissors do make a good improv weapon. He gripped the handle as he would a combat knife. Not the best, but it was the best he had. Simon placed his ear against the door. More footsteps. "I don't care what that bitch says. Shoot on sight. She's been too soft on them and she doesn't need to be soft on this one." "Dude, watch your words. She's a high rank. I'll do what she says." "Fuck that. This man is a 141 freak. Family fucking signed away his rights as soon as he stepped into the hospital." What? "Besides, he disobeyed her orders. I'm gonna put him down like she's supposed to." "Alright man, your funeral for killing one of Laswell's pets." "Fuck you, Jones." The footsteps retreated. Simon started to hyperventilate. His family abandoned him. They let this happen? Even after his promise? Simon ran over his options one last time: join 141 unwillingly and let them walk all over me, never see my family again, and probably die for putting one toe out of line, get out of the building sneakily or metaphorical guns blazing doesn't matter at this point the scissors are the best I have and I can make do, or I don't even want to think of the last option. Simon looked at the scissors in his palm. If everything is true, if his family signed him away, if 141 is the cesspool it is, the last thing Simon could do was go out on his own terms. Simon tried to blink a couple of tears away. "I'm sorry." He knew nobody could hear him. But he hoped, somehow, his family could hear him. "I'll see you all again someday. Goodbye." Simon lifted the scissors to his wrist and slashed.

The building had been on lockdown for hours. Multiple employees ran throughout the halls looking for the escaped experiment. Laswell, however, calmly walked around. Using 141 resources, she knew Lieutenant Riley was still on campus. Down in a supply closet, covered in blood. When Laswell came upon the closet, she noticed the blood leaking into the hallway from under the door. "Lieutenant. May I speak with you?" No answer. "Lieutenant?" His voice muffled through the door. "Fuck off." "No can do. I need to make sure you're okay." "I'm not. Respectfully, fuck off." Laswell heard a grunt and splattered liquid before she went and open the door. There, sitting on the floor in the middle of a layer of blood with bloodied scissors but no cuts marking his skin, was Simon. His eyes were closed and he sighed as he heard the door open. "Fuck. Off." "Lieutenant..." "Is this why you want me? 'Cause I can't bloody die?" Laswell chose her words carefully. "I know you don't want this. And I can't do anything about it, but you are under 141's command now. You have been transferred." Laswell squatted to look Simon in the eye. "Whatever you have heard about us, I can assure you it's better now." Simon met her eyes. "Are you sure about that? I've heard some shit. Where all Toyetic failures go do hide or die." "That was before my time. Things have changed." They both paused. Just silence. "I overheard you talking about your family. You were carrying one when you passed out, correct?" Simon's brow furrowed. If she fucking threatened them, he was gonna kill her. Laswell smiled softly. "The child. He's okay. You protected him. You were the only person to have severe injuries. They are wanting to see you if you'd like?" Simon's brow twisted to one of question. "But the men I heard earlier-" "Are idiots. They said they checked every corner of this basement. I wouldn't believe a word they said." "They said my family signed me away." "No," Laswell spoke harshly. "Your family had no choice in this. Unfortunately, Toyetic feels that they can float above consequences and operated on you without permission. In the name of 'science'." Simon just sat there taking everything in. "Listen, Simon, I can help you. The 141 is not a prison sentence. You are allowed to do whatever you want." "Except leave?" "Yes. Project Toytic doesn't want anyone us wandering around unsupervised. Would 'damage their brand' and make them 'lose funding'. And I'm bound to that. You can't leave, but you can be normal." Simon sighed. That tingling feeling came again. When it left, he was standing behind Laswell. He dropped the scissors as he turned. "Can I see them now?" Laswell smiled. "Of course, Simon. Whenever you want. As long as it doesn't interfere with missions." "Of course not, Chief. Lead the way."

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The meeting went well. Laswell explained everything. They all understood that Simon was dead and that he was a part of Toyetic's experiments. That he was a part of 141. Simon's mother, Laura, never spoke through the whole process. Only Tommy and Beth asked questions. Simon was resigned to his fate. In the end, hugs and goodbyes were exchanged. Beth and Tommy's went by with little fanfare, they only spoke of 'goodbyes', and 'see you soons'. Joseph didn't say goodbye. He hid behind Tommy's legs as if he was scared of Simon. "Go on. It will be a while before you see him again." Joseph only pressed his face into his father's leg harder. Simon tried his best to not feel hurt by that. Joseph was just a little kid. All of this was scary. It didn't consume Simon's thoughts that his only nephew was scared of him. At this, Laura walked up to Simon, and instead of hugging him, she took his head in her hands. Simon melted. "Mum." "Don't. Let me talk." Simon looked into her eyes. "I know you, Simon. In your mind, you're making yourself a monster like your father. Listen to me. You. Are. Not. Your. Father." Simon broke eye contact. "I know." Laura pulled his face up. "Look at me. You are my son. That will never change." She pulled his face down to kiss him on the forehead. "Please promise me you won't go far from us?" Simon's voice cracked. "I promise." Laura pulled away and smiled. "There you are. Be safe Simon. Come back to us soon." Simon nodded. His throat was closing. "As soon as I can." Simon felt guilty. 'As soon as I can' turned out to be the next Christmas. It was partially his own fault. He couldn't get Joseph's reaction to him out of his head and he didn't want to scare him any more than he already did. Simon did keep in touch, but he couldn't pull himself to visit. Laswell had finally pushed Simon on this visit. Most of the base had already taken off for Christmas and there were no leads on any current operations. So Simon found himself on a train heading to the outskirts of Manchester and was soon standing outside of a house. Light hung on the outside and shadows moved softly on the inside. Like a cliched movie, Simon just stood there watching, not disturbing the peace his family had found without him. Before Simon could turn away, the door opened. "Simon?" It was his mom. "Simon!" She ran out into the snow and nearly tackled him in a hug. "You're here! You're actually here!" "Uncle Simon?" Simon froze. In the doorway, Joseph appeared. Laura pulled back to look at the young boy. "It's okay, Joseph. It's him." Joseph stayed on the porch. Laura sighed and turned back to Simon. She spoke under her breath. "It's been strange around here. When Laswell said you were dead, he became scared." She snorted. "He has it in his head that you're a zombie back to eat brains, but he has been worried about you, Simon." "To be honest... I've been scared too. I don't want to hurt him." "You could never. Now come on, it's getting cold out here and I left some cookies in the oven. Don't need them burning!" Laura pulled Simon closer to the door. Joseph still stared at him. "Hi, Joseph. It's been a while, yeah?" Simon kneeled down and Joseph nodded. "I've heard you're scared of me? You think I'm a zombie?" Joseph nodded and stepped back a bit. Simon smiled. "It's funny. 'Cause I'm scared of you." Joseph finally spoke. "How can you be scared of me?" "Because I learned some things while I was away. I'm not a zombie. I'm a Ghost." "A ghost?" "Yep. Like Casper. I've learned that when I'm around family members, I can't use my powers. I can only use my ghost powers to fight bad guys." "Like Danny Phantom?" Simon didn't know who that was. Probably best to just agree. "Yes. Exactly like him." At this, Joseph perked up with a smile. "I knew it!" And he ran into the house. Simon chuckled. That was far easier than he thought it would be. But at least it was a start.

Because the dialogue can be kinda confusing without paragraph breaks in this next one, the main POV Soap dialogue will be in Red. All other Soaps will have different colors depending on how many Soaps are in a scene. If there is only one Soap, he will talk in regular color. :)

Remember that buddy that died in Price’s story up above? Remember how I called him a failed mitosis experiment? Well, Soap is an accidental success. Mitosis mutations were discovered when Project Toyetic started experiments on sets of twins. Fraternal twin experiments proceeded as normal; it was the identical twins that produced interesting results. If experimented on at the same time, and in the same room, the identical twins would conjoin. No matter if the test was simple or complex, the results would be the same: conjoined twins with successful results of the actual test. Results varied wildly from the twins only being conjoined by their fingers to one surviving twin having an extra five toes on one foot. Those with less extreme fuzing can easily be separated and live normal lives, but in extreme cases, such as extra limbs, they live with Taskforce 141. Of course, none of this reached the public, and a majority of identical twin subjects were improperly informed about the risks of the experiments. John and Logan MacTavish were informed that they were to be a part of 'the first experiments on identical twins' (this was years into the identical twin research) and that Project Toyetic would be doing a simple genetic swap of hair color (they tried that already, the twins previously subjected to this hair color swap were conjoined either at the hip or had a split halfway up the spine that made them share a pair of legs with the swapped hair color only being on one of the twin's heads. Today they were going to test out what would happen when splicing python snake D.N.A.).

"Do ya think Ma's gonna be pissed when she sees we're blond?" "Na. We can dye it before she can see." Both of the brothers sat on operating tables waiting for the doctors to come in and start the procedures. Even though they were identical twins, John and Logan couldn't be more different. Since the age of 13, John has sported a mohawk and immediately signed up for the military against his family's wishes. Logan, on the other hand, in recent years was growing out his hair: a man bun with an undercut. He made it into college for a degree in software development and graduated a year earlier than predicted. "Good idea. This'll be the easiest £4,500 we've ever made!" A doctor came in soon after. "Hello there guys. Are we ready?" "Ready!" "Okay. Just as a reminder, we are putting you two under anesthesia for your safety. Is that alright with you two?" "Ready with me, doc!" John just nodded in response. "Alrighty then. Lay down and we'll get started." John reached over and punched Logan's shoulder before shifting to lie down. "You are gonna look so stupid with blond hair." "If I look stupid, you'll look stupid, stupid." "Na. I'm prettier than you." "Ya right. See ya on the other side." The doctor slipped an oxygen mask over John's face. "See ya there." John awoke with a scream. He had a leather bit in his mouth as pain flared throughout his entire body. The only thing he could see was a bright light above him. Below his screams, he could barely hear the doctors surrounding him. "It's starting." "What do you think it'll be this time? Last time we tried a snake, they split above the jaw." "Yeah, but that was a cobra that got stuck on the wrong chromosome. Python as an addition to the Y? Who knows, but I'm betting just at the elbow." "Oh, you're on. £15 for shoulder or more." "Deal." The doctors were ignoring John's screams of pain. He writhed around hoping to get their attention. They ignored him. Ten minutes passed. "The second isn't moving. He should be awake by now." "Lemme look." The doctor walked past John's table. John's pleas were muffled around the bit as the doctor continued to ignore him. "He's still alive. Continue as planned." The doctor walked past John. "Can one of you knuckleheads gas him back up? His screams are starting to annoy me." With that, the one betting on just an elbow walked over and pressed more chemicals under his skin. John passed out again. He awoke again. All of the pain was gone, but a new bit was placed in his mouth. It was larger and was forcing his mouth wide open. The doctors from before were surrounding his bed. John tried to wiggle around, but he was strapped down. He knew something was wrong. It was just a gene swap. Nobody said it was supposed to be that painful. His attention soon snapped to the head doctor. "Who are you?" John snarled at him. They were the ones operating on him and they didn't even know his name. "Which one are you?" John couldn't speak with the object in his mouth but he did his best. "Where is Logan?" John shook his head. How the fuck should he know? The doctor looked up at his fellow doctors. "Check again. He can't be-" The doctor hesitated, not wanting to spill anything. "Something has to be wrong." "Unless you want to cut him open and check his guts, everything is perfect. No defects." "An internal conjoin? That's never happened before. Put him under again. We gotta check." John started to scream again before he felt a needle against his skin and he was sleeping once more.

The bit was still in his mouth when John woke for a third time. The doctors were nowhere to be seen and John wasn't strapped down. Stitched up scars in the shape of a Y lined his torso. He only had a single handcuff keeping him chained to the table. The first thing he did after sitting up was rip the bit out of his mouth and yelled. "HELP! HELP!" No one came. In his yelling, he felt his teeth. His canines had grown. His tongue was now split. "WHERE IS LOGAN?!" John was starting to rip the skin under his cuff. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!?" John stopped struggling. He didn't yell that. Looking over beside him showed Logan standing up but now his head was cut like his own. "Logan!" John shouted in relief. "What the fuck is going on? Why's your hair cut?" "I'm not Logan, you bawbag. I'm John. Why's yours cut?" "No. I'm John." Both of them stared at each other. Until the one standing up laughed. "Good one, Logan. I'm betting we ain't getting that money, right? This was all just some prank, yeah?" "No. No. I'm John. John Ewan MacTavish. You are Logan Knox MacTavish. You fucking know that." "Okay. Okay. Fine. Keep up the charade. We are both John MacTavish. But I don't believe you. Prove to me you're not Logan." The standing man crossed his arms smugly, believing he had won. John just smirked. "Okay then. We both say our first crush. THE first crush. The one I've never told Logan." "Okay. On three. One..." "Two..." "Three..." Without hesitation, they spoke at the same time. "Mike King two houses down. He had the cutest hair in the grade above us." Both Johns smacked their hands over their mouths. "How the fuck?" "No. No. No! You found out somehow." "How? I had that locked away for good!" "Okay, another one!" "What other secret did I keep from you?" Both Johns paused before the standing John spoke somberly. "What were the last words I ever said to Pa?" The chained-up John shook his head vigorously. "No. This is all just some stupid joke and you want to wrangle that out of me?!" "If it proves that you are Logan, yes. It is absolutely necessary." John paused. "I don't fucking believe this. Fine. Again on three. One." "Two." "Thr-" "We don't remember. We were piss drunk." The formally arguing Johns jumped in fear. Sitting with his head between his legs was a third John. "Something about the neighbor's cat is our best guess, as Pa did say something earlier in the night about getting a new barn cat." "And who the fuck are you?" "I'm John. You are John. He is John. Everyone in this room is John MacTavish." The sitting John stood up and walked towards the other standing John and grabbed his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, the standing and arguing John was absorbed into the former sitting John. He mumbled under his breath. "Can be born out of fear. Good to know." "Okay. What the FUCK is going on here?" The standing John didn't respond. he just grabbed the cuffed John and waited as the cuffed John absorbed into him. A new line of cuts appeared around his wrist where the cuff would be on him. "Injury transfer. That sucks." He went and sat on the bed. He wrung his hands through his hair. He sighed in frustration. He willed a duplicate to pull out of himself. "Rubber duck with me here. What are we missing?" The new duplicate got up and started to pace. "Talk to me. Go over what we know already again."

Another sigh. "Something wrong happened during the experiment. After the live autopsy, we woke up with two of us in this room. We went through the same argument that just happened again. We figured out we were both John after five questions. Soon after, cuffed was absorbed by standing and we started testing after that. We've figured out that we duplicate by either a fear responce or just a thought. We can only absorb one another via purposeful touch. Duplicates can make duplicates. Knowledge can only transfer from duplicate to duplicate after absorption. Injuries transfer as well." The other John stopped pacing. "How about limits?" John looked up. "Limits?" "How many can we make?" "Good idea." He went and stood up. "You start the chain. Sound off. I'm one." The other John nodded. "Two." John watched as more Johns appeared in the room. "Three" "Four" "Five" "Six" "Seven" "Eight" All of the Johns keeled over in pain before another could appear in the room. "Eight of us." All of them were groaning in pain. "Good to know." "Okay. Form up to three. Need more brainstorming." Soon there were only three Johns in the room. "So we all felt that. Limit of eight Johns. Next question of mine, and I know you two will think it's extreme, but what about death?" "Yeah, that is extreme." "He's got a point though. Do we all feel it? Can we absorb our own dead bodies?" "I know, but he didn't have to voice it out loud. Sounds extreme saying it out loud." "That's what I said!" "Oh shut up. But we do need to figure that out. Which of us is gonna die?" Both of the other Johns looked at him. "No. Please." "You spoke first..." "I can't!" "Why not? One of us has to." "But I'm the original John! You can't kill me!" "Are you?" "We can't know that!" "Remember? Every one of you guys has come out of me." "No? The original was chained up? He had gauze on his chest! None of us have gauze!" "Did you absorb the original John?" "What? No! I'm the original John." "Then where is the gauze? None of us have the gauze!" All four of the Johns felt their chests. No gauze. A search was brief. A wad of bloody gauze was in a pile on the bed. None of the Johns spoke for a couple of minutes. "So none of us are the original?" "That answers a totally separate question: can we survive without the original." "Apparently." "But then who is in charge?" "I'll stay in charge. I may not be the original, but I am the oldest. From here on out, whichever duplicate is oldest is in charge." "Are we still John?" "Of course? Why would we not be?" "John is gone!" "Orginal John is dead!" "Stop freaking out. You splitting uncontrollably." "NONE OF US ARE JOHN!" A flash of pain happened again. Screams of pain and fear echoed through the room. "Alright. That's it." One of the Johns stood up and grabbed everyone he could.

A whole bunch of raw emotions ran through his mind as all of the Johns fused into one once more: confusion, anger, sadness. Through clenched teeth and falling tears, he spoke. "We are John. I am John. None of us are the original John. That does not matter right now." He walked to the bed and sat down. A hand ran over the gauze. "We have gotten off track. I have gotten off track. Where is Logan? What happened? What is wrong with us? Me? US?" John stood and punched the bed. "WHO AM I?" At this moment a knock came from the door. John jumped. A woman's voice came through the door. "I can hear you're awake. Can I come in?" "I take left of the door and we ambush her at the same time?" "No. Let's keep this on the down low for now." "Sure. Come in! I can't stop ya." In walked in a middle-aged woman with a short pixie cut. She had a small smile on her face. "No, you couldn't." She took note of John sitting up on the bed and the smile disappeared. "You made it out of your handcuffs." Shit. "Uh yeah. Small wrists." The woman crossed her arms. "And the gauze?" "Itchy. I unwrapped it." The woman just hummed. "Tell you what Sergeant, we are gonna play a game of questions. But, if you lie to me, I'll lie back. Understand?" John huffed. "You seem to know when I'm lying. How do I know you won't just lie either way?" "I won't." John glared at her, but this was his only way of getting answers at the moment. "Fine. Ask away." "What is your name?" "John MacTavish." "No title? Callsign?" John rolled his eyes. "Sergeant John MacTavish. My friends call me Soap. But you already know that." "I did. Your turn." "Who are you?" "I'm Chief Inspector Laswell. Head of Taskforce 141. Do you know of them?" John shook his head. "Nope. Not ringing any bells. Where is my brother?" The woman paused before answering. "In order to answer truthfully, You need to know a couple of things about Project Toyetic..."

· · ────────────── · ·

Most days at the main 141 base were hectic. Today was an exception. Soap was holed up in his room today, just buried in his covers, not wanting to face the day. No duplicates. Just a single Soap. A knock came around 1000. Soap sighed, pulled himself out of his bed, wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, and shuffled to the door. He didn't want to deal with any recruits right now. So imagine Soap's surprise when he opened the door to see Laswell standing outside. "Sergeant." "L-Laswell. What are you doing here?" "I'm here to check on you. I haven't seen any of you at all today." "Yea. I-" Soap sighed. "I'm taking a day off." Laswell cocked her head and became lost in thought. Soap never took a day off except- Laswell looked into his eyes. "It's today, right?" Soap nodded. "Five years." Laswell pulled him into a hug. "Are you okay?" Soap nodded again. "I'm fine. I'm just missing him." "Do you need anything?" "No. I just need to be alone today." "Okay." Soap pulled away from the hug. "Please. If you need anything, you can tell me." Soap nodded. "I'm okay for now. I'll be okay." Laswell nodded. "I'll leave you to it then. See you tomorrow, yeah?" Soap nodded and closed the door. Soap returned to his bed. His thoughts began to stew. Laswell seemed truly worried about him. He had become the happy-go-lucky guy on base since he came here. He had done this self-isolation in years past, but were they looking down on him? "You know they're not." "But do we? You saw how she looked at us. It's been five years! I should be over this by now!" "He was our brother! Grief is not a linear process." "Just because I am telling myself that doesn't mean I have to listen." The duplicate sighed. "So if I say it out loud, you won't listen to it?" "If you're just gonna repeat bullshit from the therapist, yeah. I hear that way too much." "But you'll listen to the thoughts in your head?" Soap buried his head farther into the pillow. "We are having the same thoughts, hermano. It's self-destructive to think like that." "I know." Both Soaps sighed. "How about we make a deal. Three of us go about the base as normal. So far only Laswell knows where we are. You can stay in bed. We can still grieve him. At the end of the day, we can all come back and have one big cry. How does that sound?" Soap sighed and turned over onto his side to face the wall. "I hate how logical that sounds. Go ahead." The other Soap nodded. "Okay. I'm gonna head to the weights." "Aw man, I wanted to go and do weights." "You idiots. You can both do weights. He needs a spotter anyways." "Oh right! That's why you're the smart one." "We're all the same guy, Soap." With that, the duplicates exited his room. For the whole day, Soap wallowed in his sadness. Memories of Logan and him together flashed through his mind: a moment in Nana's backyard garden, Soap playing wingman for Logan, cuddling as toddlers, Soap cheering loudly at Logan's graduation, Logan doing the same at his Sergeant promotion, and many more.

Maybe wallowing wasn't the best idea. He started feeling more and more shitty. Feeling shitty made him want to stay in bed, but staying in bed made him shitty. As Soap continued this cycle the day continued and finished. A Soap stumbled in soon after dark. "How you doing?" Soap just sighed and reached out his arm. "That bad?" "Yeah. Maybe sitting around and remembering the good times is a bad way for me to cope." The other Soap nodded. "Well. Let's refuse. I'm the only one. We all came together before I came in. We've been feeling bad about not thinking about him all day. So maybe your crying and my memories will balance out and today will be okay." Soap nodded as they grasped hands. The memories from both men joined together. Over the years, Soap had gotten good at compartmentalizing the scattered memories, but the dissonance between his memories and those of his duplicates caused him to cry. Scattered between his wallowing sorrows were shots of himself smiling while talking with Gaz, laughing at Ghost's jokes, horsing around on the obstacle course with a couple of recruits, and pestering Price. It was a normal day, but even the little details made a difference. While contemplating the day, Soap missed the knock at this door. Soap hadn’t noticed until a hand appeared on his shoulder. Soap looked up into the face of Laswel, tears openly streaming down his face. He rushed to wipe them away. "Chief!" Laswell raised her other hand to his face and wiped away a tear he missed. "What do you n-need, sir?" "I need to help you. Are you okay?" Soap sucked in a breath. "I'm fine. Just a lot going on today." Laswell nodded. "I saw you running around today. I thought you were taking a day to rest?" Soap deepened his breath. His tears had slowed, but they hadn't stopped. "I did. I was here all day as well." "Four of you?" Soap nodded. Laswell nodded back. "Have you eaten anything all day?" Soap nodded once more. "Had lunch with Gaz and a-a granola bar before I came back so I-I'm okay." Laswell moved to sit down next to Soap. "Okay. You know I do this because I love you, right?" Soap nodded, his throat closing up not used to the love thrown abandonly at him. Laswell wrapped her arms around Soap and hugged him sideways. "You, the 141, all of you are my family. It may be my job, but it's something I've turned into my life. Watching and helping all of you to live with what Toyetic unfairly dealt you. You have grown so much since you came under my wing, John. Please don't forget that." Soap's tears came in full force. He turned and wrapped his arms in turn around her. They sat there, for how long, Soap did not know. He only knew that Laswell's hold on him did not soften until he let go first. Leaning back, Soap took a couple of deep breaths. They sat in silence for a couple minutes more. "Thank you, Laswell." "What for?" "For checking in on me tonight. I needed that." Laswell smiled. "I think I needed that too." Silence again. "It's late. I know you've been in bed all day, but please try to sleep, okay?" Soap nodded. "I'll sleep. Tomorrow is another day, after all." Laswell ruffled Soap's unkempt mohawk. "That it is. Good night, John." "Good night, Kate."

And that's the end! I'm not gonna turn this into a full fanfic, but feel free to use the ideas here for anything you want to do! Just tag me please so I can see! Have fun!

141 is made up of human experiments. They were supposed to be destroyed but it was decided they could be put to use as weapons. Laswell is their handler, she's meant to keep an eye on them and if they get out of hand she's supposed to kill them. But... the thought of killing them didn't bother her when she didn't know them. Before she befriended Price, before she spent time with Ghost or supervised Soap and Gaz at a carnival. They were so human, full of light and wonder. Now she's desperate to make sure her bosses never see the need to have them killed.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Since the next fic has fully shifted Monster Hybrid!König, I figured I'd give you guys a ref for what he looks like. He's certainly a big boy, I'll tell you all that much for sure. He's probably one of the, if not the biggest shifter Kortac has on base.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

A Knot Undone Spills Forth Tangled Possibilities

Very simple Monster Hybrid!König post today. I hope you enjoy, even if the post is very short!

TWs: mentioned sickness

Wordcount: 1.4k

Art from This Post

A Knot Undone Spills Forth Tangled Possibilities

Training with monster König did not go well. In fact, it went so far from well that you’d positively say it was horrible. You swore up and down as he chased you around the gymnasium, only stopping occasionally to loop through the rafters above like a big cat.

“König! Get down from there!” you yelled up overhead.

The monster only crawled around further, looking almost like a bat with how he used the talons on his big feathery wings to maneuver through the beams. His long furry tail trailed through a series of loops along the ceiling behind him.

“König!” you called again, your hazmat suit crinkling as you stomped your foot.

Finally, he snapped his head to look at you.

Even though you were his trainer, looking into the empty sockets of his eyes had chills crawling up your spine. He croaked out a small caw, then turned away to go back to playing with the metal beams in the ceiling.

You watched his massive body twist and turn as it wove amongst the beams above. On one hand, you were truly impressed that he was able to do it without getting stuck, but on the other hand you hadn’t even managed to get his control cage on his back before he had bounced away to do his own thing.

You muttered curses under your breath as you watched him playfully swing by his tail from side to side as he chirped happily.

“I need to clean you!” you whined.

König took a moment to stop swinging. He looked at the rake by your side, then at the massive sponge and bucket on the other. Without another word, he dropped down to the floor with a reverberating thud and scrambled to your side.

“Clean,” his voice sounded like a hoarse death rattle, “Clean!”

You sighed as you held up the rake, “If you stay still I can clean you.”

“Clean!” he parroted again before rolling onto his back and splaying out his tattered black wings, “Clean! Clean!”

You slowly trudged over to his side. You grimly noted that his feathers were rough and patchy and his black fur was tangled in thick knots. Evidently, he hadn’t been able to clean himself properly since his last trainer.

“Okay, so,” you sighed heavily, “you’ve got a lot of matts. I’m gonna need to go grab some scissors, okay?”

König whined and rolled on his back playfully.

“Just stay here,” you warned him before hurrying off to the handler equipment room.

You flicked on the lights and looked around the room haplessly. Evidently, whoever had been here before hadn’t had so much as a thought of consideration as they dumped everything into a mound. All the equipment had been haphazardly thrown around recklessly. To your horror, they’d completely jumbled all the organization of the room. What was normally a neat and tidy room had somehow turned into a muck room since you had gone to train König in the gym. How they’d manage to undo all the careful maintenance you and your cohorts had been practicing for ages was beyond you.

You scrambled to look through the ruins. You came across collars and chains and balls and more as you searched through the piles. You had the horrible feeling that you’d never find the trimmers. How could you when the room was like this? You worried that König would be off in the rafters again if you didn’t manage to find it soon.

Just as you were about to give up hope, you saw a glimmer of steel. You sighed in relief as you pushed a heating blanket aside to find the trimmers buried underneath. How you managed to find them was beyond you, a simple chance of fate, but you took it with both hands and lifted your hope and the trimmers from the pile.

You were used to making a mess by now, but something clattered to the floor when you brought the trimmers to your chest. You screwed your brows together and looked at the ground.

It was just a simple rope puzzle. It lay on the floor, tangled more than usual, but it was obviously meant for some of the more intelligent hybrids. It was just something to keep them busy. Something to keep them occupied.

Something to keep a hybrid like König occupied.

It clicked in your head. You no longer cursed whoever had wrecked the room before you. Instead, you’d bow and pray at their feet if they walked in that moment. Praise the bastard for giving you the answer to all your problems in the form of a simple puzzle.

You scurried out of the room with your new toy as quickly as you could, nearly forgetting the trimmer in your excitement.

When you made your way back to the gym, König was predictably up in the rafters again. 

“Hey!” you yelled as loudly as you could, “hey König!”

You heard a low rumble up from behind you.

You slowly turned and looked up to see König hanging upside down like a bat from the rafters, his head just a few feet above the door. You wondered how long he’d been hanging there, almost like some winged opossum.

“You!” you yelled and held up the trimmers, “come down here so I can clean you!”

König chuffed and crawled up his body to get back into the rafters. You huffed and puffed as he weaseled his way through the beams to get away from you.

“Hey!” you yelled at his retreating form, “wait, get back here!”

“No.”

You ignored the shivers up your spine when he spoke, a natural side effect of the nachtkrappe voice, and charged after him. You crashed across the runway, your hazmat suit crinkling like a paper bag with each and every single one of your movements. You could probably be heard from the other side of the gym at this rate. You shoved the thought aside and pushed forward.

“Hey you ugly mutt, get down here!” you howled as you scrambled after him.

“No!” König croaked back and swung from the rings hung from the ceiling. You couldn’t help but groan. Now that he found the rings there was no way he’d be coming down soon. Not unless…

“I have something for you!” you yelled as loudly as you could. Your lungs burned with the effort as you hung your other tools by your side.

König, to his credit, at least momentarily paused at your suggestion. However the flight rings proved to be too tempting and he was soon winding round and round the red and white plastic again.

“Come on!” you complained loudly, “we can do ringwork later, we need to clean you first!”

That got his attention, at least.

König lunged down directly at you. You squawked loudly as you threw yourself out of the way of his big grey talons. He thankfully didn’t baffle you with his wings and instead curled his long tail around your legs, tripping you in the process.

You pulled yourself to your feet and brushed yourself down. The rubber suit was thankfully durable enough to withstand a bit of wear and tear, but you still checked to make sure it was intact. You’d hate to get sick because of a small tear in the suit. Whatever nachtkrappe’s carried, you didn’t want to catch it.

“Okay, so,” you pulled yourself together, “I have an offer for you.”

“Offer, offer,” König parroted as he tilted his head back and forth, the fluorescent light glinting off his tusks and horns menacingly.

“So,” you held up the trimmers and he hissed, “stop that! Look, if you let me trim some of the matts, I’ll give you something fun.”

“Fun?” König thankfully perked up.

“Fun!” you repeated and held up the rope toy, “this is just a little rope puzzle. You think you can finish it before I finish trimming you?”

König snorted out a plume of putrid smoke, “Ja.”

“Ooo, confident!” you chuckled as stepped closer, “well, let’s see how well you do.”

You tossed him the rope. He struggled to catch it in his front claws on his wings, but he managed to carefully lace it through his fingers and settle on his front.

You flicked the trimmers open and sauntered over to him. You picked up the rake along the way with a smirk.

Finally, you had a way to make him sit still.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

[gremlinmodetweeker]

I really like hybrid!König's face. He's just a funky lil bird guy! He's also about the length and a half of a school bus. So, you know, maybe not so lil after all.

Konig Dump

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König AU Writing Masterlist

Masterlist

Konig Dump

Happy Tails:

KorTac decided to rent some space in a small animal adoption cafe to provide an animal therapy program for their agents. König came for the snacks.

Intro [1] [2] [3]

Summoned!CoD AU

Reader, or Summoner, was forced by the military to summon a beast of war to use in battle. Unfortunately, Summoner isn't great at controlling themselves, so they accidentally summoned a being far too powerful for any of you to control.

Intro

None of Your Shit

Ever Watchful

An Ant Among Men Among Gods Among Cosmos

Kiss the Ocean Kiss Yourself (First Kiss)

Accidental Meteor Showers

An Unexpected Appearance of Softness

A Question Best Left Unanswered

Sweets and Sours and Maggots

Circles of Stars in Cosmic Waltzes

Writhe Beneath Me

Silly Games for Silly People

A Step Through Time, A Step Closer

A Different Definition of Ash

In The Heart of My Mother I Laugh

Mistakes Meld Realities Together

Extras

The Best Song for Summoned!CoD

Nice Kidnapper!König

To live is to suffer. Your existence feels meaningless, and you know that if you dropped off the face of the earth, nobody would remember your name. Your one chance of happiness was speaking to a nice masked man at a bar, but your 'friends' had cut off your time and stolen you away. Little did any of you know, he'd steal you back soon enough.

Intro [1] [2]

First Time Out of the Basement

Flickering Shadows Hide the Light

Cream and Honey and Thorns and Nettles

Ablutions with Acid

Carve the Fat

The Possibility of an Open Window

Do You Miss What You Had? Do You Miss Who I Was?

Long Pig

A/B/O Universe

In a world where military soldiers are forcibly paired up with partners to produce more soldiers, König is paired with an omega O, and has to deal with the new changes in his life.

Intro

My Ever Empty Bed

An Olive Branch Among Thorns

Declivities

Two Can Play At That Game

To Market to Market to Buy a Fat Hog

Aren't You Tired Yet?

I Sit With You And Cry For What Could Have Been

The House is Burning, and Everyone is Laughing and Smiling [1] [2]

Kinktober

Ghostbusters AU:

Who ya gonna call? GHOSTBUSTERS

New Recruit

A Conversation with Those Who Laugh at Death

You're a What Now?

Basement Bros

Infection!AU

You've managed an off-grid farm ever since you parents passed. It's been years, but you've endured the winters and grown to be an incredible homesteader. However, that was before the lights went out, and the barracks north of you went to shit.

Monster Trainer!Cod

Reader, code name Handler, is assigned by higher ups to be the Designated Operator of König, a rowdy and difficult-to-control jotunn/nachtkrappe shifter hybrid with a strange history of 'accidents' with his previous handlers. Your best bet to get by is to speak to others on base, but nobody is forthcoming with information.

Talking Heads Roll On Floors

Headaches Split my Skull, Stop Talking

Mischief and Mayhem

A Knot Undone Spills Forth Endless Possibilities

Phantom of the Opera!AU

Inspired by a glorious ask, a version of Phantom of the Opera where König is our beloved phantom trying to save reader from the horrible fate of being seduced by a lover from the past with a dangerous agenda. König is a twisted man, but it takes a dark soul to recognize another, and so he will do whatever he can (from the shadows) to save his beloved songbird.

The ask the inspired it all

A Man Among Ruins

Lights Go Out I Wake Up

Cannibal King!AU

Taking place in the world of Sons of the Forest, reader is trapped on a remote island. Soon she is kidnapped by a cannibal king. Once by his side, she learns that life in the woods isn't as painful as expected, adn that humanity comes in many forms.

King Cannibal Conquer Quest

Rest Well Reign Strong

Fuck Me Like A Bitch So I May Love You More

Stars Whisper Prophecies into Waiting Wells

Local Executioner!König

Living in a small village leads to a tight-knit community. When you father left to be an adventurer after your mother passed in childbirth, you were taken in by the village baker, your uncle. You always avoided the public executions, but your uncle gets sick and can't go out to market to sell his buns on the very day an execution is slotted. You must go, and there you find a cursed outsider who sparks your interest.

Carve Out a Place for Me to Sing

Hope is in Buns, Life is in Stars, Promises are in Vain (Pt 2)

Cat Hybrid!KorTac

Horangi and König are sick and tired of roughing it on the streets. They were born and bred to be soldiers, but the batch of kittens that were meant to be made into KorTac's next greatest soldiers escaped into the city, they had to grow up on the streets. They made their little gang, but Horangi and König always wanted more. One day, reader comes along and finds two sick kittens on the street. Unable to stop herself, she brings them in and nurses them back to health. She immediately regrets her decisions.

Intro

Konig and Horangi Refs

Hunters

Horangi Wink

Horangi's Hoard Art

Meeting the Human Forms (First Time)

Cuddling Konig

Move comic

Food Quality Ask

Get Out of There! Comic

Devourer of Treats Ask

Child Locks Ask

Art from This Post

[marvelshifter111]

I was so sure i did this yesterday

21. What's something you associate with with each of your Desired realities?

Marvel - morning coffee, rain at night, books, early trainings, parties, New York

Wednesday - school, black, autumn, books, rain, braids, studying

Star Trek - space, starts, moon, blue and purple, futuristic cities

Old money - smell of books and money, fireplaces lit in winter, mansions

New money - penthouses, big cities, parties, black dresses, models

Fairy - forests, tea, plants, cottages, dawn, morning breeze

Maleficent - forests, rain at night, thunderstorms, smell of rain, night

Mermaid - beaches, summer, sea, blue, white and orange, white dresses

Spider-verse - AI art, teens, school, teen friend groups, chill life and friendships

Death in paradise - the Caribbean, Brits, beach, swimming

Book reader - books, coffee, tea, library, rain, hot chocolate

CSI: Vegas - criminology, gray, files, coffee, mystery, police

Cafe owner - library, cafe, coffee, tea, books, rain

Boarding school - school, studying at night, coffee, teens, books

Avatar - blue, purple, night, stars, moon, peace

Farm - animals, veterinarians, dawn, white dresses

K9 handler - military, dogs, dawn, coffee, cod monster au (don't ask) (seriously don't ask) (i just made a DR out of bluegiragi's monster au)

22. Is there anything you'll miss from this reality when you shift?

My mom, brother, dad, two besties.... that's probably it...

I just wanna shift rn.