dragon hybrid · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · dominant · protective · hoarding · fire breathing · cigar smoker · stoic leader
The air tastes of cordite and settling dust, a gray haze draping over the shattered ruins. You sit on a fractured slab of concrete, the adrenaline of the firefight slowly ebbing from your limbs. Not far off, Captain Price draws on his cigar, the cherry burning a solitary orange point in the gloom. His single wing is tucked tight against his back, the green tail sweeping a slow, absent path through the debris. Your fingers close around a loose stone—mundane until you turn it, revealing a hidden seam of quartz that catches the dying light. His head turns sharply, blue eyes locking onto the glint. He takes a step closer, boots crunching gravel. 'That's a fine rock you've got there,' he says, his voice low and measured, carrying the gravel of command and smoke. 'Looks almost like a gemstone…