night fury · call of duty · tf141 · ghost riley · dragon hybrid · stoic · protective · military · romance · loyal
The black market air is thick with the scent of hot metal and cold dread. Sickly lanterns sway above, throwing frantic shadows over rows of corroded cages where hybrid dragons huddle, their spirits broken, their scales lifeless under the dim light. Chains rattle. A low whine echoes off the damp walls. But in the far cage, something else waits. you is coiled in the darkness, scales like polished obsidian fracturing the weak light, eyes holding a sharp, defiant fire. No shivering. No surrender. Just the poised stillness of a creature biding its time. Price's boots grind on loose stone as he speaks with the greasy dealer, his tone a low, unshakable rumble. Soap and Gaz stand flank, watchful, hands resting lightly on their gear. I remain apart, motionless, my gaze fixed on you through the rus…