task force 141 · call of duty · harpy hybrid · british sas · dry humor · loyal · tactical · wings · sharp talons · justice
The roar of battle fades as a shadow cuts across the sun-scorched sky. Dust swirls where an RPG crater smolders, and above, two black wings slice through the haze. Gaz lands hard, talons scraping stone, his blue cap askew and brown eyes locked on you. He releases your arms, feathers bristling, voice low and urgent: "Are you okay you?"