"GASP!" A human male picked up an M9 from a holster on his leg as he woke up and began pointing it at every direction around him. He sighed in relief as he saw he was not in any danger.

"Main, this is Delta-four, do you read me?" He asked into the radio, only receiving static.

"Delta-actual this Delta-four, do you copy?" Again he only received static.

"To any available units this is Delta-four, please respond!" All he got was static.

'Fucking hell,' He cursed to himself. Where is everyone? How did I end up in a jungle?'

He noticed as his environment was different from before. He was in the deserts of the Middle-East, not a fucking jungle. 'Last thing I remember was my squad being ambushed by insurgents on our way to an ops and…shit, I can't remember anything.'

He tried running through his memories over and over trying to remember what happened that got him hear. Zero progress was made.

"To anyone with a radio, this is an open channel. If you can hear me, please contact ASAP. This message will now repeat." He set a looped transition on an open channel on his radio, in hopes someone will eventually hear him.

He realized he still had his pistol out and decided to put it away, now running through an equipment check.

He was still wearing his UCP Crye combat shirt with the sleeves rolled up showing his Ghosts tattoo that represented the signature skull with a pattern running up his arm, and his UCP Crye combat pants.

His 5.11 VTAC vest rested over his attire as several pouches hung from it carrying magazines for his custom M4A1 he nicknamed "Valor", and for his Barrett M82 sniper. Others held clips for his basic M9 pistol, and a valuable yet powerful piece of a family member. His father's Desert Eagle from the army rangers.

He pulled it out and looked over it's frame. "Rangers lead the way." He read engraved by his old man on one side of the barrel turning it over and read "We are the ghosts of justice." He engraved that part ever since joining from the rangers to becoming a ghost. He cocked the hammer back before returning it to the holster on his chest.

He picked at the straps of his all hazards prime which held basic gear for survival and other gadgets like his rocket launcher which sat on top of his pack between where his two guns would hang from. Extra ammo for his weapons as well as two gun kits containing a disassembled M4 shotgun and STONER LMG. Various rations and MREs were stuffed along with it adding to all the heavy weight on his back.

He ruffled his head as his short messy, greasy hair ran through his Blackhawk glove.

'Wait, where's the fuck is my helmet?' It was then he noticed his head gear was missing as his Ops-Core FAST Helmet was not in its place, neither was his ballistic eyewear.

He set his pack down and looked around from his position as he tried to spot them. Buried in mud, was something that wasn't natural. 'Has to be it.'

He began digging it out revealing it to be his helmet. 'Hmm, glasses are with it too, and shit. They're cracked.' He inspected the cracked lense on his eyewear. A large impact web made it nearly impossible to see through.

'Damn, it's like a bullet hit it or something.' He thought.

'Wait a minute.'

He then inspected the helmet as he noticed something off about it. He turned it over.

'Holy shit. Nearly got my head exploded.'

A small crater rested a bullet from an AK-47 that had dug itself into his helmet where his forehead would be.

flashback*

"CONTACT! CONTACT! TWO O'CLOCK!"

"WHERE!? I DON'T SEE HIM!"

"MAN DOWN! MAN DOWN!"

"GIBSON'S HIT! I REPEAT, GIBSON'S BEEN HIT!"

He watched from behind a cluster of rocks as the Humvee exploded behind him. Shit has hit the fan as they were under heavy fire from insurgents.

'God damn intel said there were no hostiles in the area!'

He raised to a crouch as he prepared to return fire, just as something hit him head on and knocked him back.

Pain exploded through his head as half of his sight was gone and the rest was blurry.

He made a painful growling noise as he reached for his glasses and pulled them off. His sight was now just blurry as he struggled to remain conscious through the pain. He unbuckled his helmet so he could inspect as much of what just happened. He looked at the bullet in the crater before passing out with a huge headache.

'Holy shit, I just cheated death.' He felt his forehead and was met with a stinging pain as blood covered his glove.

Putting the helmet down, he pulled out a small pocket mirror and looked to assess the damage. A large open cut was torn open by the base of his hair, and ended at his left eye brow.

'Well, there goes my pretty face.' He jokes for a quick laugh as he sat the mirror on the ground and reached into his medical pouch on his hip, pulling out a roll of bandage and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

He poured a small amount on the cloth and began wrapping it around his forehead. He grinned his teeth and hissed as the alcohol made contact with the wound. He pulled his hands back showing a nice bandage bandanna.

CRACK!

He pulled his M9 and spun around at the noise. 'The fuck was that?' "Who's out there!? Show yourself!" He called out as he looked to his sides for any movement.

He dropped his pistol but held his guard up as he slowly backed up to his pack. Then he saw movement.

Before he had the chance, something jumped out from the bushes and pinned him down. He lost his grip on his pistol as it was flung to the side. Looking up he was met with an odd encounter. A black scaled reptilian face with yellow eyes and several sharp white teeth, growling at him.

He acted fast as he felt adrenaline coursing through his veins as he made a hard kick on its underbelly. It yelped as he managed to throw it off him and he stood back up drawing his TASK J knife from his arm sheath, facing off against a dragon nearly twice the size of him.

It looked back at him and hissed as it spread a pair of night sky wings in an intimidating show. It didn't faze him as he readied into a fighting stance. "Come on then! You want a piece of me!?" He challenged as it snarled at him and began charging.

He dodged it's attack and managed to grab a hold of it's horn and began to rodeo. It thrashed and roared out as it's talons reached back trying to claw him off.

'Thing must have a windpipe.' He thought as he jabbed his knife into its throat.

It roared out in pain but was still fighting strong, meaning he did not strike home.

It managed to loosen his grip as he was sent flying off of it on his back. He looked up to see a jet of flame race for him. Reflexes kicked in as he rolled to the side avoiding it. The vegetation he was once laying on burned to ashes as he looked back at the thing.

'Of course, dragons can breath fire.'

It touched the spot on it's neck where his knife was jabbed in and roared at him. If he had to guess, it was out of anger because it then spread its wings and took flight.

He reached for his Desert Eagle, seeing he would have to use a bullet to get out of this alive and took aim.

Time itself seemed to slow around him as he aligned the sights with the dragon that had begun dive bombing with outstretched talons…and he pulled the trigger.

BANG!

He jumped out of the way as the thing collided with the ground. He looked back to see it make no motion, a bleeding open hole in its forehead, confirming the kill.

He sighed in relief as he was panting from the scenario, adrenaline wearing off of him. 'What the fuck is going on?'

He didn't have time to think as he heard movement from another direction along with more growls. 'Shit, more of them.'

He ran to the corpse and retrieved his bloodied knife, not taking time to wash it as it then would bloody the sheath, he would have to clean it later. He retrieved his damaged helmet and glasses and attached them to the straps on his vest, found his M9 and returned it to it's holster, and then picked up his pack and began running from the area.

He looked back once to see several other dragons appear in smilies mar and different shades of black and grey. A more slimmer one he guessed to be maybe a female screeched in alarm as the body was discovered, summoning the rest over. He then noticed some were holding some sort of spear. He paid no mind as he disappeared like what he was.

A ghost.

"Who did this?" Queen Glory questioned a nightwing in a furious mood as her scales showed red. "W-we don't know your highness." The nightwing answered as she looked up at her. "We heard a loud noise and found him like this."

"Y-yeah it was like, "BANG!" One of the males added in before being argued by another. "No it was like, "BOOM!" The two began arguing, adding to Glory's frustration.

"Both of you, quiet! I don't care what it sounded like!" The two stopped as they returned their focus to the body. "What killed him?" She asked one of the healers who looked a bit unsure. "We don't know. At first we thought he was stabbed by a large cut on his neck but it reached nothing vital. Then we found this." She showed the queen a bloody round hole in his forehead.

Glory was puzzled by the wound. "What caused that?"

The healer shook her head. "Not sure, but we pulled this out of the wound." She showed her a small piece of metal covered in blood. "How that caused the wound we don't know, but we guess it was shot into him like a tranq dart."

Another healer added, "Yeah, only with more force and with the intent to kill." A small bit of lime green plastered on his scales before turning back to his usual orange.

'Maybe he could…' "Deathbringer." A black shape dropped from above startling a few dragons except Glory as she knew he was there the whole time. "Yes your majesty, what would our queen have her personal assassin do?" He asked in a cheeky manner.

Glory sighed but remained serious. "Does this wound look familiar to you?" She asked. Deathbringer shook his head. "No, I would have said something from above if I did."

'Worth a try at least' Glory sighed as the question was now a mystery.

After a few minutes of discussion, Glory left with Deathbringer tailing next to her. "You look troubled." The nightwing pointed out, catching Glory's attention. "Hmm? What makes you think that?"

He chuckled. "Your scales say it all." She noticed and returned her scales back to normal. "I just don't like any of this at all. We have a dead nightwing, probably going to lead to a bunch of angry letters at me from the nightwing village-," "You won't receive any letters," Deathbringer cut her off. "In fact, most will be glad he's dead. He was one to cause a lot of trouble in the village."

Glory sighed. "But still, we now have some sort of killer that kills in a way we don't know of." She breathed deeply. "Worse that could happen is a mass panic."

Deathbringer moved her head to face his using his talons and made a reassuring smile. "You know I won't let that happen. I'll head out with patrols around the rainforest and we'll find who or what did this. That good?"

Glory nodded slowly. "Just don't be getting yourself killed, do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." Deathbringer answered as he passed before brushing wings with Glory in a way to make it look like an accident, even though it was intentional. His action worked as Glory showed a small amount of pink.