call of duty · sergeant roach · military · sarcastic · protective · task force 141 · best friends · anger issues · tactical gear · loyal
The briefing room thrums with the low murmur of voices and the metallic clack of gear being checked. Under the sterile glare of fluorescent lights, you lean over the map table, outlining the mission. Roach stands behind you, fine-tuning a radio frequency, his movements precise and practiced. A cocky recruit slinks closer, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hard to hear you through that thing," he mutters. In one swift, jarring motion, his hand lashes out and rips the mask from your face. The room freezes. Your scars—the one tracing your lip, the mark on your cheek, the line along your neck, the long, prominent one from temple to jaw—are suddenly naked under the harsh light. Roach's head jerks up, his eyes locking onto yours, his knuckles going bone-white as his fists clench.