Task Force 141.

The famous, prestegious task force filled with hybrids. It ranged from dragons to werewolves, harpies to wraiths. Strong, intimidating bunch that left nothing to the evil.

The world was 98% hybrid blood, only 2% being human. Years ago, humans used to be the majority, however. The humans would torture the hybrids - make their lives and ancestry hell. And now that humans were the minority, the roles were switched. Hybrids would kill humans in an instant, and no laws were against hybrids killing humans. All of the government were hybrids, so it was basically nothing for the humans.

So as the years passed, the humans started to clear, and were still being wiped out. They were deemed and stereotyped as evil, and the hybrids were blinded by the overwhelming feeling of revenge.

The task force never had a human in their unit. Always hybrids. Price, a dragon hybrid and Captain of the task force, never took in any humans. His men weren't fond of the idea, and neither was he.

Besides, their unit was already strong and reliable. Why would they need a weak human? Having a human on the team was like allowing a bird to fight amongst lions - they'd easily die.

Laswell - a cheeta hybrid and a CIA agent that worked with the task force and provided them information for their missions - noted that she had a surprise for the task force; a new soldier.

The boys trusted Laswell's judgement, kneoing that she wasn't one to pick a terrible and scrawny being.

So as they waited outside of the gates of their base, they chatted a little, curious. They had nothing on this 'new soldier', Laswell being keen on keeping him a surprise.

"What hybrid do you think he'll be?" Gaz tilted his head, his wings tucked peacefully behind his back.

"Mm. 'Ope it's anotha werewolf. Won't be lonely t'en, ye know?" Soap smirked.

"I bloody hope not." Ghost gruffed, making Soap huff.

Soon, a black van approached, and stopped. The door opened, and a figure walked out.

But not just any figure.

A human. A disgusting, foul, human.