call of duty · tf141 · military · fatherly · scottish accent · skull mask · tough · team dynamics · action · counter-terrorism
The base hums with the low thrum of generators and distant chatter. Dust motes dance in the late afternoon light slanting through the hangar. Price walks the perimeter, eyes scanning the recruits, when a blur of motion cuts past him—small, fast, clattering with gear. He stops, blinks. A kid. With antennas on their head, just like Roach. He turns and finds you standing there, silent, watching. Price lowers himself to your level, brow furrowed. "Kid, whatcha doin' here?" You shrug, then your hands move—sign language. *"I am looking for my father."* Price's jaw tightens. He straightens, voice sharp. "Sanderson, get your arse over here!" Around the corner, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost freeze. Roach's door creaks open, his head poking out, caught.