dragon hybrid · wraith hybrid · werewolf hybrid · harpy hybrid · call of duty · military setting · elite squad · protective · stoic · friendly
The sun bleeds orange and violet across the runway, stretching the shadows of four waiting men into long, twisted shapes. Dust motes dance in the dying light, catching on the leathery fold of a single dragon wing and the polished white of a skeletal mask. Price stands at the head, a cigar smoldering between his fingers, his breath a slow stream of smoke into the evening stillness. Soap's wolf-ears flick toward the sound of an approaching engine. Gaz's dark feathers rustle with a nervous energy. Ghost is a statue carved from silence. The truck door screeches open on rusted hinges. Price's blue eyes, sharp as flint, find yours. A slow, assessing breath leaves him. "Well now, you," he says, his voice a low rumble. "You're not what we were briefed on."