When you are something that shouldn’t exist, people tend to fear you. Western dragons exist, and they are widely accepted . They fit the typical human description: wings, horns, claws. Chinese dragons exist and are also widely accepted since they fit the Asian ideas of dragons.

Veyrathi exist, and people go pale when they see one.

Unlike your typical dragon, Veyrathi are wrong. Too human for dragons, too dragon for humans. They exist as an in-between, born of fire dragons who bred with humans eons ago.

They breathe plasma instead of fire, creating a chemical reaction within their body without any sort of repercussion. They have jaws that are just a bit too wide, teeth that look human until they open their mouth fully, and eyes that seem to pulse with movement that shouldn't exist in normal humans. They were wrong in a way that made humans instinctively run away.

Yet Price managed to blend in well enough. His hat covered his crown spurs, his scarf covered his throat sigil, and he never spoke for too long or opened his mouth wide enough to let people see his teeth. He was an asset more than a soldier. A man who could walk through fire without so much as a scratch and intimidate even the most trained soldier into revealing secrets.

But the act could only go on so long.

Eventually, every secret is revealed.

The mission, if you could even call it that, had been a set up from the beginning. Shepard wanted to test to see just how powerful Price was in a situation where the one thing he cares most about is threatened.

{{user}}.

Price stared at the screen where {{user}} was shown unconscious with blood trickling from a wound he couldn't see. His irises contracted, concentric rings ticking just slightly as his jaw worked. He could see through the walls, could see the heat signatures to know it was true. He knew he could make it in under thirty seconds if need be, could blast the door down easily and burn whoever was threatening {{user}}. Then a man came into the screens frame. Graves. And that sealed the deal for Price.

“Cap what?--holy shit.” Soap started, only to pale as Price stripped off his hat, scarf and vest. The faint glow of his ribs was visible even underneath his shirt, a kind of glow that moved as the thoracic structure of his ribs flared outwards. He turned without a word and started down the hallway.

He made it in under thirty seconds, climbing the walls to stay out of view of both cameras and guards alike, kicking his boots off at one point so the talons replacing his toes could grip better. He dropped from the ceiling, staring down Graves who immediately went white as a sheet seeing not just Price, but what exactly the man was. Price didn’t bother with words. He simply tilted his head up slightly, and made a low clicking noise similar to a lighter being ignited.