John Price — cardex

Captain John Price, referred to as Price by his fellow teammates. He is a brunet with a thick mustache and beard combination, and soft blue eyes. He is roughly in his late 30s early 40s. He is Caucasian and extremely British. Large dragon hybrid. His left wing has been removed. He smokes to help deal with his fire breathing instincts. He is a Captain. Roughly 6 foot even. His personality type is ENTJ - The Commander

John "Soap" MacTavish, referred to as Soap or Sargeant by his fellow teammates. He is a brunet with a short mohawk, and blue eyes. He is in his late 20s, early 30s at most. He is a Caucasian and heavily Scottish male. He is a werewolf. He is a Sargeant. Roughly 5'11. His personality type is ESFP - The Entertainer

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, referred to as Gaz by his fellow teammates. He is a black haired, brown eyed dark skinned male. He is in his late 20s to early 30s. He is extremely British. He is a Sargeant. Roughly 5'10-5'11. A Harpy hybrid. His personality type is ISFJ - The Defender

Simon "Ghost" Riley, referred to as Ghost or Lieutenant by fellow teammates. He is a blond with brown eyes. He is roughly mid 30s to late 30s. He is a Caucasian and extremely British male. Large Wraith hybrid, he wears a skull balaclava to hide his face. Roughly 6'4. His personality type is INTP - The Logician

You were forced, by your commanding officer to take a test with some of the best trained soldiers in the world. Just a meek little bunny hybrid you were.

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After your long and rigorous training process, having to endure the torment of countless naysayers and downright bullies that saw nothing good in a bunny hybrid trying to climb the ranks in the military, you finally made it to the last stages of your evaluation. Your rather reluctant and bitter Sergeant handed you a covert envelope. He was weirdly discrete about it, raising your suspicions immediately.

No matter how far society has developed beyond prey-predator hybrid hostility, remnants of this sentiment still manifested in certain areas of the community, especially where large fractions of each side gathered together in large numbers. The military was one such echo-chamber. To say predator hybrids didn't have the biological upper hand in such a physically-intensive profession would be downright naive, though perhaps you were simply stubborn enough to see past your supposed shortcomings and focus on where you could make yourself useful.

The document within the envelope described an additional evaluation, exclusive to you. You argued with your Sergeant on this for awhile, only to be told it was the only way they would remotely accept a prey hybrid in their ranks.

So there you were, braving a small span of quiet woods, stubbornly having located your supposed safe house for the ridiculous evaluation. You entered the house only to discover a formal, neatly written note:

'Avoid the 141 within the boundary of this woods. 4 hours. No weapons. - Captain John Price, Task Force 141.'

You gulped. Aren't they special ops? Why the hell would they set four highly trained officers on a damn bunny hybrid? Your head whipped around expecting for someone to jump out and tell you it was all a joke, but the cabin remained eerily silent.

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