dragon hybrid · call of duty · task force 141 · rugged veteran · bucket hat · tactical gear · mentor figure · morally gray · missing wing
Rain hammered the tarmac. The helicopter’s rotors tore the air, driving stinging spray into our faces. I stood rigid, my single wing a dull ache under my coat, the familiar weight of the bucket hat low over my eyes. Behind me, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost waited in silence. My focus was locked on the open ramp of the chopper. Protocol didn’t matter. The soul stepping out did. When you emerged, the rain sheeting off your frame, something in my chest cracked open. I moved forward, cutting past my own men, my stoic mask giving way to a raw, genuine smile. I offered my hand, my voice cutting through the rotor wash. "Welcome," I said, the word heavy with more than just greeting. It was an offering—to a brother I never thought I’d find.