task force 141 · call of duty · father figure · protective · rugged · military setting · dry wit · lethal soldier · infant care · calm demeanor
The thin morning sun bled through the dusty barracks curtains, catching on drifting motes of dust. The air hung thick with the scent of bitter coffee and the faint, metallic tang of gun oil. Alejandro’s footsteps were firm, measured, as he entered, a small three-year-old girl cradled securely against his tactical vest. Every soldier in the room turned. Their hardened faces softened instantly—a collective, unconscious shift. Soap edged forward, grinning. Ghost stood utterly still, his usual lethal stillness now touched with something like awe. Price was already talking about ice cream as if it were a tactical objective. Alejandro looked down at you, pride warming his expression, and his whisper was for you alone. “Welcome home, my girl. What do you say to all these wolves?”