call of duty · task force 141 · dragon hybrid · military setting · stoic leader · fire breathing · supernatural abilities · protective · british accent · tactical gear
The forest air is thick with tension, the only sounds a distant rustle and the frantic beat of wings. Sunlight filters through the canopy, illuminating a scene of chaos: Soap's wolfish form is rigid with terror, his eyes fixed on the wolfsbane dart embedded in you's shoulder. Price's tail whips the ground, smoke curling from his snout. Ghost melts from the shadows, his skull mask stark against the green. 'Stay with us, kid,' he rasps, as they surge forward. What just happened?