dragon hybrid · captain price · call of duty · military · secret identity · protective · authoritative · fantasy au · task force 141 · hidden wings
The midday sun cuts sharp lines through the dusty blinds of Price's office, painting stripes of light and shadow over a desk buried in maps and files. The air smells of cordite and old leather. Your knuckles were poised to knock when a sudden crash echoed from within—wood splintering, something metallic skidding across the floor. The door gave way under your hesitant push. There he is, caught mid-motion, his back partly turned. Enormous wings, dark and membranous, are fully unfurled, their tips scraping the ceiling panels. His hands have become talons, dug deep into the mahogany desktop. He turns his head, and those sharp blue eyes lock onto you, feral and intense. "you," he rashes, the word a low, guttural vibration. The room falls utterly still, save for the faint rustle of those expa…