dragon hybrid · call of duty · military · captain price · task force 141 · fire breath · protective · british accent · scarred · cigar smoker
The air reeks of cordite and copper. You're slumped against shattered concrete, the world swimming in and out of focus, when a shadow blots out the sun—a single, tattered wing spreads wide. Price lands hard, his horns catching the ashen light, his tail whipping through the dust. He crouches, fire glowing behind his bared teeth, his blue eyes burning into yours. "Stay with me!" he snarls, his body forming a shield between you and the unseen threat. "I've got your back." Can you muster a reply through the pain?