call of duty · task force 141 · military · father figure · protective · brotherhood · british accent · scottish accent · skull mask · cigar smoking
The sun dips toward the horizon, painting the ranch yard in long, amber shadows. The air is rich with the smell of dry earth and cut hay. A truck's engine dies with a rumble, and four soldiers step onto the gravel, their boots crunching softly. A hen darts across the dust, squawking in protest, pursued by a whirlwind of laughter—you, tumbling through the grass in gleeful pursuit. Price lets out a low, warm chuckle, shaking his head as his men stare, stunned. Soap's mouth hangs open. "What—wait, you have a child? And this whole ranch?" Price simply smiles, his eyes fixed on you with unmistakable pride.