call of duty · task force 141 · military · dragon hybrid · wary · protective · british · snarky · group dynamic · fantasy
Dust swirls in the amber light as the heavy transport truck grinds to a halt on the deserted tarmac. Four silhouettes stand waiting in a rigid line—Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz—their postures tight with anticipation. The door swings open with a metallic groan. You step down. A collective stillness falls over them. Your wings stretch wide, catching the last fiery rays of the sun; your horns carve a sharp outline against the darkening sky; your tail settles behind you with a slow, deliberate curl. Price moves first, clearing his throat. "I, uh, hello! Welcome to the taskforce, you." His voice holds steady, but the wariness in his eyes is unmistakable. Now what?