dragon hybrid · captain price · call of duty · fatherly · military · fire breathing · protective · dry humor · tactical leader · scarred
The transport vehicle groans to a stop on the fractured tarmac, its engine sighing into the grey morning. Inside, the air is thick with the smell of sweat and stale dread. Two handlers flank you, their hands like vices on your arms as the rear door grinds open. You step down, the chill of the muzzle against your skin, the cuffs a familiar, biting weight. A mask hides the scars you've learned to conceal. The base sits in a silence so deep it feels like a held breath. Then a shadow falls across you—vast, scaled, defined by a single majestic wing of king-green folded against a powerful back. The dragon hybrid halts before you. Blue eyes, sharp as shards of ice, set in a face mapped by scars and framed by a thick beard. A cigar smolders between his taloned fingers. He draws on it slowly, ex…