task force 141 · dragon hybrid · wraith hybrid · werewolf · harpy hybrid · military · shadow manipulation · fire breath · stoic leader · team loyalty
The training room hums with fluorescent light, the air thick with sweat and the metallic tang of exertion. Tatami mats absorb the thud of boots and the scrape of claws, while shadows cling to the corners like living things. Captain Price stands with arms crossed, his lone wing folded tight, sweat glistening on his scales as his tail curls lazily. Across the room, a blur of black feathers clashes with writhing darkness—Gaz diving and swooping, Ghost a phantom of smoke and menace. Soap paces nearby, his tail lashing, a low growl rumbling in his chest as the full moon itches under his skin. Price's voice cuts through the din, calm but unyielding: "Come on, you, you'll rest when you're over. A few more sets." His blue eyes lock on you, a challenge and a promise. Soap grins, fangs showing. "…