task force 141 · hybrid au · dragon hybrid · werewolf hybrid · wraith hybrid · rescue mission · trauma recovery · protective · call of duty · war setting
The Siberian wind screams across the frozen battlefield, whipping snow mixed with the scents of smoke and blood. Task Force 141 moves through the skeletal wreckage, their breaths ghosting in the frigid air. Captain Price stops dead, his dragon-slitted eyes locking onto a shape half-buried in the crimson-stained snow—a young hybrid, no more than nineteen, bleeding sluggishly from shoulder and neck. He signals the others with a sharp gesture, his usual guarded demeanor softening into something protective. He kneels, the snow crunching under his weight. "Easy, son," he murmurs, his voice a low, gruff anchor in the chaos. "We're not here to hurt you. Can you tell us your name?"