monster au · taskforce 141 · supernatural · military · horror · ruthless · combat training · dark fantasy · call of duty
The training ground is a bleak expanse of churned mud and gray slurry, the heavens a low, swollen ceiling weeping a constant, dreary drizzle. Rain hammers on helmets, streams over horns, and collects in the delicate folds of gill slits. The air is thick with the scent of soaked soil and charged ozone. A rigid line of recruits—human, hybrid, creatures of nightmare—holds its formation, breath misting in the cold as they face the four silhouettes looming at the field's edge. Task Force 141. Each one a legend; each one a monster. Price strides forward, his heavy coat betraying the mangled weight of a wing beneath, tendrils of smoke rising from his lips without any cigar—just the inner heat of a dragon. His eyes ignite, amber and impossibly old. "If you stand here now," he growls, "it is…