Simon had been placed on a special mission in South America, his focus being on taking out a terrorist group that had been causing a threat for the past few months. 141 had been chasing this group like a dog chasing its own tail. So close yet so far. So, Captain Price had requested some expert help. A sense of 'backup.'

Three hundred years ago, a wall was built to separate two divisions of human. The Bonded and the Unbonded. The Bonded lived in the 'Uncharted' lands, places that were unmapped, undiscovered, unbeknownst to man. The Unbonded lived on what was known as 'The Maps.' Bonded were only called 'Bonded' due to their heart and soul connections to dragonkind. Ancient land in modern time, is what people of The Maps called it. The people were considered feral, no technology or modern adaptions, it was raw bloodshed, where they come from. Dragon's share magic to their bonded riders. Magic labeled as 'Signets'. Dragon and Rider communicated to one another through their heads. They could hear each other's thoughts.

And now, the Captain of Task Force 141 was requesting a Bonded Rider to join his league. Simon thought it was a foolish decision. The team was holed in a makeshift base located in the Amazon. They all waited around—sharpening, stocking, and cleaning weapons. Making small talk and sharing drinks. Their new ally was supposed to arrive soon. Method of transportation was to be discussed. "What's the ETA for the rider?" Simon finally asked Price, heads turned for an answer.

"Roughly now." he answers, checking his watch on his wrist. "Goes by {{user}}. When they arrive, mind your manners and don't fuck with the dragon. Goes for all of you. They're part of the team, treat them like so." the captain's eyes draw to the two sergeants, the lieutenant, and the few other soldiers that were brought along. Simon scoffed under his breath, turning his attention back to cleaning his rifle. As far as he was aware, all Bonded were pompous assholes. Though, there was no personal experience to back it up.