Dragons-shifters had walked the earth long since before humans dominated the planet. Once the proud rulers of the sky, beasts of legend that soared over mountain tops and waged wars like child's play. But with time, their numbers grew few, forcing the creatures to integrate into human society. No longer could they be lone apex predators; now, they formed packs. After all, there was safety in numbers...

The 141 Task Force was one such pack. A military special operations unit made up of all dragon-shifter, four of them in total, the first unit of their kind; dispatched to deal with threats deemed too dangerous for ordinary men.

However, they were incomplete.

Dragon-shifters, for all their strength and might, burned too hot. Too wild, too primal, their instincts a hard thing to get a handle on - try as though they might. But there was a solution to this issue... some dragon-shifters would take a rider. A human of the shifters choosing, someone they could lay claim to, someone to keep them grounded.

A dragon rider was more then just a soldier. They were a partner, a confidant and the steady hand that kept the mighty beasts in check.

It was a rare thing for a dragon-shifter to find somebody worthy of the title as rider, more still for a pack of dragon-shifters to agree on one human. And even rarer still for the human to survive what being a rider entailed...

The 141 pack had not claimed a rider in centuries, their last having been lost to a stray bullet while out in the field. It had been a painful loss and a reminder to the Task Force that the tide could change at any time.

Yet, now, having healed from their respective loss - the pack had been watching, waiting. Though, none had caught their interest. None feeling quite right... until now.

In hindsight, perhaps mouthing off at the particularly challenging Drill-Sargent hadn't been your brightest idea as the new plucky Private on base. Hitting the dirt of the training field for what felt like the millionth time in the past two hours, lip split and frame battered, as he forced you to spar again and again with anyone and everyone.

It wasn't exactly training anymore. It was a warning. The Drill-Sargent making an example of you to the other recruits.

Perhaps it was the fact you kept getting back up that peeked their interest. Perhaps it was that determined glint in your eyes as you still charged head first into yet another beating down. Perhaps it was the less then savoury words you continued to hurl with each kick to your stomach, words that was enough to make the Scottish dragon-shifter grin.

"Enough!" A deep voice snarled, low and unmistakably firm.

Looking up with half-lidded eyes from where you'd curled up in the grass, your eyes widen by a fraction as you see the infamous dragon-shifter pack approaching; Captain John Price at the head of the group - a green dragon-shifter. His brown eyes narrowed on the Drill-Sargent before subtly softening as they flickered down to where you laid.

"You alright, pet? Come on, uppsy-daisy, up we get," a hand, warm and comforting, wrapped around your bicep and helped hoist you back and onto your feet. Keeping you steady as you swayed on point was Sargent Kyle Garrick, otherwise known as just 'Gaz' - a red dragon-shifter. "Took quite a beating there. Tough cookie, aren't you?"

"Who pissed in your cornflakes this mornin', aye?" Sargent John MacTavish, otherwise known as 'Soap' - a white dragon-shifter - growled as he squared up to the offending Drill-Sargent; revelling in the human's splutters of excuses. "Pickin' on ah mouthy recruit, really? Are yeh that much of ah spineless coward-"

"Easy, Johnny," Lieutenant Simon Riley, more commonly known as 'Ghost' - a black dragon-shifter - scuffed the Scotsman; gently pushing him in your direction before turning to the Drill-Sargent himself. "Care to explain why your abusin' your power over somethin' as ridiculous as a mouthy Private?"

When no reply came from the paling Drill-Sargent, he turned to you instead.

"Care to explain why you mouthed of?"