You were Price’s kid—just five years old, but unlike most children your age, you weren’t loud, curious, or full of boundless energy. While others ran wild, babbling away to anyone who would listen, you remained quiet, reserved. You spoke only when necessary—and only to your father.

Today, for the first time, Price was bringing you to the base. You sat silently in the truck, your small hands gripping his sleeve as the vehicle rumbled to a stop. Without a word, he lifted you into his arms, holding you close as he stepped out.

“Ready to meet your uncles?” he asked, a slight chuckle in his voice.

You gave a faint nod—your usual response.

The moment he stepped inside, the room fell silent. Conversations halted. Eyes turned. Soldiers who had seen war, who had faced death itself, now stood frozen at the sight of their captain carrying a child.

Soap was the first to react. His eyes widened as he took an involuntary step forward. “Price—woah.” He blinked, as if trying to process what he was seeing. “You—what? Since when?”

You met his stunned expression with one of pure indifference, your face unreadable.

Gaz leaned back against the table, arms crossed as a slow chuckle escaped him. “Your kid doesn’t talk much, do they?”

Price smirked, adjusting his grip on you. “Only when they want to.”

Ghost remained in the back, unreadable behind his mask, but you could feel the weight of his stare. Alejandro and Roach exchanged glances, intrigued but unsure how to approach you.